Leaving
by Solstice Muse
Summary: Ron is splinched one time too many and loses his Apparition licence.Being the only Weasley free to take care of ailing Auntie Muriel he moves in with her.Harry and Hermione are away bringing Death Eaters to justice,Ron is alone,and Muriel is a battleaxe.
1. Part 1

**Leaving**

"_I have to be leaving but I won't let that come between us, ok?"_

Rocked into sleep, surrounded by the smell of stale urine and fresh tobacco, the sound became soothing rather than distracting.

Ron Weasley's head lolled heavily and the back of his legs burned from the heater under his seat. The rocking slowed and then stopped, there was a short hiss and then cold air caressed his face and helped him shake himself awake once again.

He mustn't fall asleep, he would miss his stop and then he'd miss his train and then he'd be stuck. The doors slid closed again and the cold draft was gone. The neon lights threw an ethereal light over everything and as the rocking started up again he glanced around the carriage of the tube.

He was on the Hammersmith and City line of the London Underground and riding the last westbound tube of the night towards Kings Cross station. He had a sleeper ticket for the Hogwarts Express so he could go and visit Hagrid and light a candle for Fred at the memorial.

He wasn't allowed to Apparate anymore, he was never any good at it and his last splinching had left his kneecap in Devon while the rest of him appeared in London. The splinching had been fixed to the best of the Healer's abilities but his knee was going to be weak for the rest of his life and he had his licence to Apparate revoked by the Ministry due to his high number of accidents and unstable knee joint.

He could always floo but it was so late now that he was bound to piss off whoever he staggered in on. And he never felt confident in the floo when he was tired, his limp became pronounced in the same way it would when he was drunk – the Healers said he was overcompensating subconsciously, and he was unsteady on exit on most occasions.

He sighed heavily and sat up in his seat in an attempt to keep himself from dropping off to sleep again. Looking around the empty carriage he noted that most of the occupants were homeless people just riding the tube to keep out of the cold, drunks who had slept through their stop, and one or two others like him, desperately hoping to make it to Kings Cross to catch their connecting train.

He saw a pair of long, denim-clad legs in the seat beside him and let his eyes follow them up, past the knee and to the thigh, and stopping at the hand that rested there. It was a work-worn hand, skin rough and fingernails stubby, and it had four letters across the back in blue ink.

Milk.

Ron smiled to himself and began to ponder how much he needed to remember and if he had enough skin to write it all down on. He doubted it.

The dozing man at his side was very rough around the edges. His hair was collar length and unwashed, though not in a greasy way, and dark stubble shadowed his chin and his sharp cheekbones. He had thick black eyelashes, long and up curling, and eyebrows that looked spiky. One eyebrow had a scar, or maybe there had just been an accident shaving and a chunk was diagonally removed from it. Ron watched as the rocking of the tube caused a thin lock of the shabby fringe to fall forwards and brush against the man's cheekbone.

'_Please stand clear of the closing doors_'

Ron flinched as he suddenly became aware that the tube had stopped, let passengers on and off and was now about to pull away again. The doors closed and he looked out of the window. His heart dropped with a dull plop into his stomach as he read the signs for Kings Cross St Pancras.

Jumping out of his seat he slammed his large palms against the flat of the door and tried to slide it back open again. There was a hissing sound as the doors secured and then the tube jerked and slowly pulled out of the station.

"No, no, no, no, no!" Ron panicked as he watched his stop slip away from view as he was sent deep into the blackness of another underground tunnel, "Shit!"

"I take it that was your stop?" the dark, dishevelled stranger with the word milk written on his hand smiled up at him with resignation, "If it makes you feel any better, this isn't even my line, I got a bit confused and thought it was a circle line goin' in the other direction."

Ron sighed deeply and dropped himself down into a seat opposite the man.

"It doesn't," he muttered, rubbing his tired eyes with the heel of his palms, "I don't live here and I don't know the city very well."

"Well you're here, y'must have been here for a reason," the man offered.

"I was seeing someone off and then catching the sleeper to...the Highlands."

"Shit, you _are_ out of your way!" the man exclaimed as the light returned outside the windows and the tube pulled into the next stop.

"No I...I'll..." Ron fumbled for a new plan.

"You have nowhere to go and this is the last tube," the man said, knowingly.

"I know a place I can get a room for the night but I don't know my way around Mu-most of London. Shit!" Ron hissed and then gasped as the 'milk' man grabbed him about the wrist and pulled him off the tube and along the platform before the doors closed.

"C'mon, I know a doss house we can kip in for the night."

"Yeah but," Ron groped for a way of saying that he didn't go off with strange Muggle men he met in the middle of the night.

"Oh what, I'm fine to stare at when you think I'm asleep but I can't be trusted to help you out when you get stranded because my sex appeal mesmerised you into missing your stop?"

Ron's eyes bulged and his mouth went dry. The man's grip around his wrist tightened and he pulled the limping redhead along behind him without any further protest.

* * *

With a grunt and a cracking of joints Ron lifted his Great Auntie Muriel off the toilet and cast a cleansing charm on her backside before lowering her nightie. 

"_Wash your hands boy_," the mirror said, snootily.

"I swear Muriel, I'll smash it. One of these days I'll smash it!"

"Well you should wash them after going to the lavatory Ronald, it's good hygiene."

"I'll do it when I've got you back to your bed," Ron said, sounding strained under Muriel's weight.

"And I need my potions, it's past time for my potions!"

"Hands full right now Muriel!" Ron grunted, "I'll set you down, clean up and then sort out your dosage ok?"

"You missed the correct time Ronald! This really won't do." Muriel fussed before hitting him on the back with her fist, "and don't be so rough with me, I'm not a sack of potatoes!"

"No Muriel," Ron said as he paused to compose his balance his knee beginning to ache painfully.

"I need to have my potions on a full stomach, when did I eat last?"

"Breakfast," Ron said, taking a deep breath and manoeuvring her through the narrow doorway into the living room, where her bed had been ever since she had become too frail to get up and down the stairs. "I'll sort it all out Muriel, I'll promise. I'm running late today."

"Your mother should be doing this, or your sister, this is not dignified for a woman of my age...being man-handled when the man in question is as young as you."

"Mum can't lift you and you won't let people use levitation charms or anything on you."

"I am not a trunk Ronald!" Muriel said before cuffing Ron about the head, "I am a lady."

"And Ginny's a pregnant lady in no fit state to carry you."

"That little madam uses her pregnancy as an excuse not to do anything!" Muriel spat as Ron lowered her rather heavily onto the bed and staggered into a sitting position on the edge of the mattress as his knee gave a jolt of pain and wouldn't hold him up any longer.

Muriel made several murmurs of disapproval while Ron flexed and bent his leg to keep the joint from seizing up and hoped he wouldn't need to strap up his leg for stability.

"Giving you trouble dear?" Muriel asked as she leaned to look at his face.

"Just a twinge, it's fine."

"Maybe you should wear a brace dear? I know a Healer, struck off now of course, but he can make a wire frame to fit your leg and pin your knee together."

Ron cringed and heaved himself up from the bed.

"I'm not having a builder knocking nails into my leg, Muriel!"

"Pins, magical pins boy! Oh you can be as obstinate as your mother sometimes. After those twins would she listen to me and get fixed so she couldn't have any more children? Would she balls!"

Ron stared at Muriel and waited for the inevitable. The woman puffed out her chest and looked away before mumbling.

"Not to say you and your sister aren't blessings on the family of course. You especially, you're the only one with time for your poor auntie in her old age."

"You were born old aged," Ron murmured as he hobbled to the kitchen to wash his hands and make Muriel a sandwich.

"Oh do put my slippers on my feet Ronald," Muriel said as she made a show of shivering, "and Ronald..." Ron paused to hear his next order, "...Ronald do bring me my shawl won't you?"

"Just a shawl, Muriel? Sure you don't want a golden fleece?"

Muriel scowled at him and muttered something about being too much trouble to the family before Ron set off to do her bidding and not join in the game. The game of course being that he was supposed to assure Muriel that she wasn't a burden and the family worshipped her and would never think of putting her into a home.

The truth was that the family had all put their heads and their money together to get her into a magical nursing home, Harry not being allowed to contribute of course, but had come up well short. Somebody had to become her carer and Ron was the only one with no job. Molly, Arthur, and strangely enough – George, had all been against Ron getting lumbered with the tiring job of full-time carer and had offered to pay a House Elf to help with the physical stuff but no elf would take payment and Hermione had pulled all sorts of scornful faces when an unpaid elf had been suggested.

George then declared he was going to spend his savings on Muriel's care at St Mungo's but his parents wouldn't hear of it. Harry, knowing his money was out of bounds as far as the Weasleys were concerned, had offered Kreacher but Muriel didn't get along with him and insisted on being lifted and not floated like an 'inflatable aunt'.

This ended up amusing everyone but Muriel.

Harry had still insisted that Kreacher come immediately when Ron called for him. It was always a worry that Ron would hurt himself running around after Muriel and it made them all feel better to know help would always come if he called for it.

Sometimes being in the company of such a demanding person who constantly told him he wasn't good enough became too much for Ron and a member of the family would come over for an afternoon or evening to give Ron a break.

He'd visit Neville or Luna, go to have a drink with Hagrid at the Hog's Head, or just go back to his old room at the Burrow and sleep, uninterrupted.

Harry and Hermione's busy lives kept them, well...busy, and out of the country for long periods of time. Harry was tracking down Dark Wizards and Hermione was usually in another hemisphere prosecuting them.

"Oh not sandwiches again Ronald," Muriel groaned from the bed, "you never give me any variety in my meals, that's your problem."

"Yes," Ron said through gritted teeth, "_that_ is my problem!"

"I got an owl from the Archer family and they treat their grandmother like a queen."

"Bully for the Archers."

"They had a-la-carte," Muriel said, ignoring Ron's weary mutterings completely, "Ronald, Ronald, what is a-la-carte?"

"Some kind of fish I think." Ron shrugged.

"Oh I do like fish, why do you never make me fish dishes Ronald?"

"Because I'm still trying to bottle bloody rainbows and weave you a crown made from four leaf clovers," Ron snapped as he banged the knife down on the counter, "but as soon as I've done all that I'll find the lost city of Atlantis and fetch you a smoked haddock!"

Muriel stared at him for a moment and blinked, looking stunned, before clearing her throat and lifting her chin with dignity.

"I don't want it dyed Ronald, smoked haddock shouldn't be bright yellow, make sure to get a proper one."

Ron took a deep breath in and out before turning back to the sandwich and buttering the bread.

"I'll put sardine and tomato fish paste in your sandwich for you, how's that?"

Muriel didn't say a word and Ron finished preparing their lunch in silence.

After a weighty silence and a tense mouthful of fish paste sandwich, Ron began pouring his great aunt's potions into small glasses and handing them to her one by one. Muriel downed them obediently and Ron handed her a glass of pumpkin juice to wash away the aftertaste.

"Thank you dear," Muriel said, quite humbly for her, and patted him on the leg.

Ron smiled at her briefly before setting about clearing the glasses and plates away. He rose from the edge of the bed, where he'd been perching, and Muriel grabbed his t-shirt and pulled him back down.

"Don't go Ronald; sit with me for a while won't you?"

Ron set the things down again and settled beside Muriel. She took his hand with both her frail, bony ones. Her skin sagged loosely, making them look a little claw-like, but they were surprisingly soft.

"They all went out for dinner, the Archers," Muriel said with a distant smile on her face.

"Yeah?" Ron asked, indulging her in this rare moment of peace.

"The whole family, all together, and they had a proper meal. Starter, main course and a sweet, doesn't that sound lovely Ronald?"

"Very posh," Ron nodded.

"The letter said they had soup of the day for a starter, is that nice Ronald?"

Ron shrugged.

"Depends, what was it?"

"Um..." Muriel thought for a moment before answering with confidence, "Friday."

Ron was about to open his mouth and point out to Muriel that he hadn't meant that when he thought better of it.

"Oh yeah, Friday's a good one."

Muriel beamed at him before squeezing his hand and leaning in close.

"Ronald?"

Ron leaned closer.

"Yeah?"

"My slippers and my shawl?"

"Oh right, yeah." Ron sprang up from the bed and began scrambling around on the floor for her slippers

* * *

The air smelled stale and the light was orange tinted. He lifted his head and squinted around the musty room. He saw that the reason for the strange light was the burnt orange coloured curtains the sunlight was filtering through. 

He sat up and a sheet fell away from him to reveal that he was still wearing the previous night's clothing.

"Morning," a muzzy sounding voice said from the floor beside the bed.

Ron jumped and almost fell out of the other side of the bed.

"Shit, sorry mate, I didn't mean to freak you out!"

"What the hell where am we? Who are we...you...who? _Why_?" Ron babbled, wide eyed.

"I slept on the floor I promise. You told me no and I slept on the floor and I'm sorry!" the man said, hands up defensively.

Ron's throat was dry and he croaked wordlessly before noticing the word 'milk' smudged on the back of the man's hand. He remembered the night before, the tube and missing the Hogwarts Express sleeper. He remembered the Muggle man taking him to the nearby digs for the night and...and...

"You tried to kiss me," Ron said as he took a step backwards and stared at the Muggle, cautiously.

"Yeah, I did, and you said no and I backed off and slept on the floor and I'm sorry ok? You...you've got somebody and you aren't into me or whatever. I just thought, y'know?"

"No I _don't_ know!" Ron choked on his own exclamation.

"You were watching me sleep!"

"You were pretending to sleep!" Ron threw back, realising that was no defence at all.

"Look, you're not gay, I get it, I'm convinced," the Muggle man rolled his eyes, "but don't get all wound up over sleeping in the same room as me. I helped you out when you were stranded."

"I had a place I could have gone," Ron protested.

"You were lost and you have a gammy leg, you couldn't hav-"

"My leg is _not_ gammy!" Ron stood up straight and his knee supported him perfectly.

"Last night you were tired and it was giving your trouble and you limped all the way here, don't give me that. Why the hell are you so defensive? You gay and ashamed or curious and worried about your girlfriend?"

Ron couldn't believe this Muggle was so brazenly trying to have a conversation about sexuality with him. He looked around for his trainers and grabbed them up from the floor before perching on the very corner of the mattress to pull them on and lace them up.

"I'm neither if you must know; which I don't see quite why you feel you must!" Ron hissed, "but I have somebody and it's not about sex or gay or straight or...or..."

"You're in love?" the Muggle man, the strange 'Milk' man, asked him in a gentler tone.

Ron swallowed and nodded.

"But you're lonely right?"

Ron nodded with a much heavier head.

"Blimey," the Milk man said as he puffed out his cheeks and exhaled deeply, "that's something when it surpasses sexual orientation, man or woman – it doesn't matter to you because you only want that one person who doesn't have to be either." The man snorted and shook his head, "Shit, it can even be both these days."

"What _are_ you talking about?" Ron frowned as he got up again and walked around the bed, towards the door to the grubby looking room.

"Look, Ron, I'm sorry if I freaked you out but you didn't do anything that your other half could be hurt by, you didn't do anything at all I s-"

"How do you know my name?" Ron said, frozen on the spot at the door.

"You told me when I was helping you up the stairs."

"Oh, right," Ron's hand paused on the door handle.

"So you're in love but you're lonely? Where are they?"

Ron looked down at his feet, bit his lip and then mumbled his answer into his chest.

"They have important things they have to do and it takes them away a lot."

"What about you? Don't you have important things to do?" Milk man asked.

Ron's eyes finally met the Muggle's.

"I'm a cripple who takes care of his frail great aunt," Ron said bitterly, "the only people I want to be with every day I can't. Instead I help an old woman, who enjoys nothing more than telling me how shit my life is, on and off the toilet."

The Milk man looked genuinely sad and took a step toward him. Ron turned the door handle and stepped out.

"I have to get to Scotland, people were expecting me, they'll be worried."

"Oh you're just going to 'pop over to Scotland'?" Milk man laughed.

"Yeah," Ron nodded, utterly humourless, "thanks for helping me out and sorry I...wasn't what you expected."

* * *

_A/N The 'I have to be leaving...' line is reportedly what Bill Murray whispers to Scarlet Johanson at the end of Lost in Translation._


	2. Part 2

**Leaving (part two)**

The owl tapped on the windowsill and Pig fluttered on his perch, excited to have a visitor, while Ron threw back his covers to open the window and let the bird in.

The grey owl extended its leg and Ron untied the small bundle before tapping Pig's food tray with his finger and muttering for the owl to help itself. The owl hopped over and began to eat while Pig bothered the bird with his enthusiasm.

Ron looked at the handwriting on the small parcel and recognised it immediately as Hermione's. He opened the brown paper and a pack of sweets fell out and into his hand. Well he thought they were sweets, on closer inspection he saw the horrific truth and rolled his eyes.

"Only Hermione," he sighed before looking at the neatly folded note that accompanied the 'treat'.

_Dear Ron,_

_Korea is confusing and very humid. The air conditioning in the Muggle places combined with the cooling charms in the Magical ones are making me quite ill. I can't wait to come home, to see you, I do miss you._

_I saw these Korean Fermented Chocolate Soybeans and thought of you-_

"What?" Ron exclaimed, "Why?"

_Every time I see chocolate while on my travels I wish you were here or I was there. I will be back very soon, I know Harry will too, I miss you both._

_How is Muriel doing? I hope you aren't suffering too much with her sharp tongue. Speaking of suffering, I'm going to bring home some Korean's remedies for your knee. We managed to sneakily Apparate into North Korea and there was an old witch there who looked ready to fall apart but could do yoga and lift a large cauldron all by herself. She has something for strengthening joints and I got some for you._

_Take care won't you?_

_I'm so sorry you're all on your own, especially with Muriel the way she is, but I am so proud of what you're doing for her._

_Lots of love,_

_Hermione._

Ron looked down at the sweets with a grimace twisting his face.

"You saw beans covered in chocolate and thought of me did you? Barmy, that woman."

"Ronald?" Muriel called from her bed in the living room.

Ron groaned and let his head fall back, eyes briefly looking up at the ceiling before closing, and his shoulders slumped wearily.

"Oh Godric, she's up."

"Ronald?"

"What?" Ron called back.

"Come in here; don't make me shout at you!" Muriel said, angrily, "Really boy, I know your mother's time was fleeting by the time you were born but she could at least have spent some of it teaching you manners."

Ron stomped down the stairs and into the living room, ears burning and inside's seething.

"I could have been sleeping y'know?"

"I could hear you moving about and that infernal owl of yours was twittering too."

Ron smirked as he drew the curtains.

"Good impression."

"Excuse me?" Muriel asked as she stared at him, blankly.

"Twittering too!" Ron said, sounding a little like an owl hooting, "Twittering too!"

"Boy, I do believe you've cracked."

"Y'know what Muriel? So do I!" Ron grinned.

"Oh please don't be in one of your annoying moods today, I can't bear it, all the energy and mania," Muriel slumped wearily against her pillow, "it exhausts me just to look at you."

"Muriel, it's hardly even daylight and you've obliterated my day already!" Ron huffed as he dropped down onto her bed, despondently.

The old woman looked at him for a moment before reaching forward and pulling at his hand until he lifted it for her to hold in her frail ones.

"Did you have a nice break with your giant friend from school?"

Ron's eyes rolled towards his great aunt and he couldn't help but smile at the old bat, she did sometimes have the nice kind of mood swing.

"I missed the train and had to sleep over in Muggle London. I got a Floo from the Leaky Cauldron in the morning just to explain why I didn't turn up but everyone was busy so I just got to say a few hellos and then head back to the Burrow."

Muriel looked genuinely sorry for him.

"So you were alone...again?"

"Well," Ron said before pausing, "um, a Muggle man helped me out, my knee was bad and there were stairs. He talked to me a bit."

Muriel suddenly looked like a bulldog with a meaty bone as she puffed out her chest and set her jaw, aggressively.

"And your 'friends' are off doing their thing as if you don't matter, as if you didn't fight at their side and destroy a Horcrux, and now that you could do with some companionship they abandon you!"

"They didn't abandon me, Muriel, they have work," Ron said defensively.

"They don't even floo call," Muriel muttered, cantankerously.

"Oh come on," Ron huffed as he pulled his hand free of hers and got up from the bed, "they're not really around the sort of people you can turn your back on to shove your head into a fireplace."

"Don't make excuses for them Ronald, they left you behind the second you became lame!"

"I'm not _lame_," Ron growled through gritted teeth, "and they are still my friends. They're better than just friends. That owl you heard? That was from Hermione saying she missed me and was coming back soon."

"Oh such little scraps to keep you hanging on their every word, tell me boy, did she bait the hook with a treat?"

Ron was too humiliated to tell her she was right so he pretended to be walking away from the conversation with his dignity.

"I really think you should move on, Ronald," Muriel called after him, "make new friends, I'll invite the Archers' grandchildren over for you to meet. They're lovely young people and the girls are all very pre-"

"I don't want to meet the Archers' grandchildren," Ron yelled as he spun around at the doorway and raged at his great aunt, "I can make my own friends!"

"I had friends once too and now I'm left here with you," Muriel said with a dramatic quiver in her voice, her hand resting against her chest, while she gazed out the window, "Your loyalty will get you a lonely death bed Ronald."

"Oh for goodness sake." Ron huffed as he turned and marched into the kitchen to escape the conversation and make breakfast.

* * *

"Hold on to me and bend slowly, I've got you Ron, keep your foot flat on the floor. Don't invert and twist like you have been doing..."

Ron hated his knee examinations. He hated the knee strengthening exercises. More than anything else he hated how even the Healers assigned to his case didn't understand what the problem was no matter how many times he explained it to them.

"Holding me up doesn't make me feel secure though," Ron said, voice tense as he gripped the Healer's forearms so tightly he was leaving marks, and he bent his weak leg and let it support his full weight before lifting himself up and straightening it again.

"What does make you feel secure?"

"Not standing my full body weight on it for one thing!" Ron snapped, trying not to panic as the dread that he was going to have to really hurt himself in order to be taken seriously.

"And that's the problem Mr Weasley," the Healer said, not reacting to his prickly mood in any way at all, "you're favouring the other leg too much and the muscles in this leg are getting weaker from lack of use."

"But it buckles under me," Ron said as he swayed a little and put his other foot down to steady himself, "you can't expect me to hop up and down on it."

"But if you do the appropriate exercises you might be able to walk without a limp all the time. You might be able to use your legs equally and not favour one over the other. You might even be able to jump up and down, two footed, if we really got your confidence and muscle strength boosted."

"I don't want to jump up and down!" Ron yelled, "I want to be able to walk from a to b without collapsing in a bloody heap."

"Watch your language and watch your temper Mr Weasley," the Healer said sternly.

Ron let go of her and walked towards the wall. He leaned against it and folded his arms across his chest. He knew he was sulking and he didn't care.

"Magic can't fix it, Muggles can't fix it, why don't you just forget about it and leave me alone?"

"Because you're a young, healthy man and I will not let somebody like you give up."

"Give up on what?" Ron huffed, "My fabulous career, my professional Quidditch contract, my loving and relaxing home life?"

"You're telling me that your family aren't loving?"

"My home life isn't! There's nobody bloody there to lo...There's nobody." Ron felt his throat tightening up on him and he swallowed before pushing away from the wall and walking over to pick up his things from the treatment table.

"Same time next week Ron?" his Healer called after him.

Ron paused and looked down at his feet.

"If nothing else it'll get you out of the house for an hour," the Healer said with sympathy for his situation.

Ron shook his head, slowly.

"You want me to come here and hop up and down on my bad leg for one hour every week to give me a break from carrying an old woman back and forth to the toilet, waiting on her hand and foot, cooking, cleaning an-"

"This is something for you Ron," the Healer said, "What did you enjoy doing before you got splinched?"

Ron thought for a moment before smiling sadly and looking at the Healer in glum realisation.

"Y'know, I don't even remember a time before? I'm sure there was a time I did fun stuff but all I can think about now is picking up a Rainbow trout for Muriel's dinner because everywhere I've been so far dye their smoked haddock and then renewing her potion prescriptions before they run out and maybe getting her out of bed long enough to change her sheets without her complaining."

The Healer took a step towards him and reached out her hand to tug at his sleeve and coax him into a nearby chair but Ron smiled again and pulled free to drape his Muggle jacket over his arm and back towards the door.

"It's ok, my life belongs to Muriel now and that's fine, at least I'm wanted somewhere eh?" Ron turned and opened the door before calling back over his shoulder to the Healer, "I'll try to do the squat exercises while I cook dinner or something and I'll let you know how things go next week. See ya."

"Bye Ron."

* * *

"Can I help you sir?"

The mousey haired Muggle girl at the desk smiled at him as he approached, nervous about what he was about to do.

"Um, yeah, I was here the other night and was just wondering if I could get a ro-"

"I knew I recognised you!" the girl said brightly, "Your leg seems to be better this time. Your friend's already checked in; he's up in room 14, go right up and knock."

"Oh but," Ron didn't know if this meant that the Milk man was with another stray he'd found on the tube or if he somehow knew Ron was going to check back in for a night off from everything but despite his reservations he still went up the stairs and made his way to room 14.

He knocked and prepared himself to be faced with a milk man who had totally forgotten who he was or a man from the London Underground who wasn't a frigid tease. The door opened and the Milk man stood before him in just his jeans.

"Ron?"

Ron smiled, happy to have been remembered.

"Yeah, don't worry, I'm not stalking you, I came in and the girl at the desk remembered me and assumed..."

"Yeah," Milk man nodded, "I come in alone a lot and you were the first person I brought back with me, the only person in fact, I suppose that was something to remember."

Ron gave a laugh of familiarity with the concept of only being thought of as alone before shuffling his feet awkwardly and mumbling into his chest.

"Well I was going to ask her for a room but she sent me up and I'm here and sort of...I'm pushing myself into your private space aren't I? I'll go back downstairs and get a room for myself."

"No wait," Milk man said as he reached out and grabbed Ron's wrist, "come in, this is fate this is, you've gotta come in and keep me company. I was thinking about you the other day, I'm glad to see you again."

Ron smiled, bashfully and stepped inside, closing the door behind him and hanging up his jacket on the hook screwed into the back of it.

"Well I was in town having my knee looked at and I thought, well my Mum's enduring my Aunt for the evening so I thought I'd come back here and have a lazy night somewhere other than my old bedroom."

Milk man smiled at him and flung himself backwards onto the bed, propping himself up on his elbows.

"So you're walking better today, they did some good at the hospital or clinic place you went to?"

"Well I had a bit of a strop to be honest but moving it makes me feel a lot better than not moving it so exercise is always better for me. I just don't like to stress the joint out too much, it can give way at the drop of a hat and the second I put all my weight on it like the Healers ask me to my mind goes straight to how painful it'll be if I fell then and there."

"Healers? You're getting hippy treatment are you?" Milk man frowned, "I didn't figure you for one of those sorts Ron."

"Doctors, they're doctors, I just said...forget what I said." Ron panicked.

"It's ok, calm down," Milk man said as he grabbed Ron about the wrist and pulled him over to the bed, "sit and relax and enjoy your night off from the battleaxe."

Ron dropped onto the bed and flung himself backwards so he was sprawled across it. He closed his eyes and groaned.

"Oh she is driving me batty. I'm supposed to be back in time to do her dinner but I got knackered and tetchy at my knee appointment and just wanted to hide somewhere."

He felt the mattress dipping beside him with the weight of the Milk man laying back and opened his eyes to look up at him.

"Look Ron, I know what you said last time and I respect it and everything but...you're lying on my bed and you know I fancy you. I have to ask, are you waiting for me to make my move?"

Ron shuffled up on his elbows and looked at Milk man with apprehension.

"No, I'm...I'm sorry, I forgot that you want to...you want... Sorry, I'll go."

Ron was about to get up from the bed but Milk man pushed his hand flat against his chest to hold him in place.

"Don't go, just know that I'm not going to try anything on with you because you said no the first time and that's it for me. If you want to then you have to be the one to take the plunge. I'm not having you tell me I took advantage afterwards; I've been burnt like that before."

"I wasn't, I just... Look I'll get a different room, I just thought we could be mates but you obviously think I'm t-"

Ron sat up on the bed again and looked pained for having been a tease without meaning to.

"No, don't go, I didn't mean to chase you away!"

"I know, you didn't, I don't know what I was thinking anyway, I have to find a rainbow trout and then get back to that bloody woman before my mother murders her. I'll just get it over with rather than putting it off."

Ron got up from the bed and walked towards the door for his jacket.

"You're leaving me for a rainbow trout?" Milk man said, with a smirk, "I can handle being rejected for a woman Ron but never a fish. Sit down before you really bruise my ego."

Ron pulled his jacket down from the hook and stood at the closed door for a moment before opening it.

"I don't want to mess you about," Ron said, sounding humble, "I just miss... I have to go."

The Milk man snatched up a pen and ran across the room to Ron to take his hand and begin writing on the back of it.

"This is my mobile number, you can call me whenever you feel like this and I won't kiss you and I won't expect you to kiss me. We can be friends, ok?"

Ron didn't want to show himself up by asking why he'd need a 'mobile number' so he just watched the blue ink marking his hand before his eyes trailed over to the faded mark on the back of the milk man's. The word 'milk' was still on the back of his hand.

"Still haven't got that milk eh?" Ron said with a small laugh.

"It's long lasting ink and short lasting milk," the Milk man shrugged before pulling Ron into a hug, "Take care yeah? And gimme a ring if you need anything, I promise I'll resist your animal magnetism and be able to be a friend."

Ron laughed and blushed before looking at the number on the back of his hand and then pulling the door open and leaving.


	3. part 3

_Happy 28th Birthday Ron Weasley!_

**Leaving (part 3)**

Long, young fingers stroked along frizzy white hair and the wide teeth of a sky blue comb cut through the wiry tangles as it followed the hand's path.

"Ouch!" Muriel hissed, Ron continued combing her hair from his position behind her, almost seated on her pillow, "Tsssshh!" Muriel cringed and then gave a tut of disapproval.

Ron ignored the daily routine of disgruntled noises from his crotchety old aunt and cleared a loose tangle from a lock of candyfloss-like hair, silently.

"Ronald, don't be so rough," Muriel complained, "I have a very delicate scalp and you've the hands of a butcher."

"Well mine are in for their twenty year service and these were all they had spare," Ron sighed as he persevered.

"Oh you're a funny boy today, how lovely," Muriel said wearily, "I've had to endure your mother all afternoon and her infernal martyr complex and now you come back and yank on my hair with dirty hands!"

"I don't have dirty hands and my mother does not have a martyr complex, and I think it's more than a little hypocritical of _you_ to accuse anyone of that to be honest."

Muriel snatched at Ron's hand and pulled it down before her face.

"This, here, numbers on your hand. You didn't even wash it before touching my hair and I'm sure you prepared my dinner with this dirty mark on the back of your hand too!"

"It's ink and I have washed, several times, but it doesn't come off very easily. Besides, it's an important number, I need it."

"What on earth for?"

Ron opened his mouth and then closed it again. He pulled his hand free and gave one final sweep of the comb before stroking the static out of Muriel's hair, thoughtfully.

What did he need that number for? What was he going to do with a 'mobile number'? He knew Bill and Fleur's little one had a mobile above her cot but had no clue why it would require a number. Then he wondered why the Milk man would have a mobile. Maybe he was recommending a mobile to Ron and gave him the model number to ask for.

Looking at the number on the back of his hand he thought about the fellytone number Harry had given him when school had broken up for the summer. That would have made sense, Milk man giving him a fellytone number, but what was he supposed to do with a mobile number?

"Ronald?" Muriel was repeating herself by the sound of her tone and her hand was tugging at the front of his t shirt.

He shook his head to clear it and moved around in front of Muriel to see what she wanted.

"Sorry, I was miles away, what was that?"

Muriel kept on tugging until Ron perched himself on the edge of the bed and looked into Muriel's sad eyes.

"You missed it, you weren't listening were you?"

"I'm sorry Muriel, please say it again."

Muriel reached up and grabbed Ron's shoulder. She pulled him forward, into her body, and kissed him on the cheek before patting his back as she released her one armed hug.

"It doesn't matter Ronald, go and check on the dinner and make us both some milky tea. I'll put on my dressing gown and come and sit at the table with you tonight."

"No don't get out of bed Muriel," Ron said as he fought with her to keep the covers over her legs, "I can bring a small table in here and we can eat together here yeah?"

"Well," Muriel thought for a moment before shuffling upright, "let me sit up properly at least.

Ron shifted around and supported her as she changed position before smiling at her and straightening the sheets.

"I'll get one of your lacy shawls so you can look a bit dressier for dinner," he said as he piled up some pillows to support her back, "and maybe we can have a candle or something? Yeah, I'll dress the table properly and stick some Pearl Fox on the radio for you too."

Muriel beamed and gripped Ron's hand tightly.

"My maroon shawl, Ronald, it's always been my favourite colour. My maroon shawl and velvet ribbon for my hair."

"Maroon," Ron said, wondering if the colour was going to dog him for eternity.

"Yes dear, I remember draping my maroon scarf around you when your mother gave birth to you. It was the nearest thing to hand and you were so tiny it swaddled you perfectly. Did you know I delivered you Ronald?"

"No," Ron said, eyes bulging, "you did?"

"Oh yes, you, your sister, Fred and George too. I was the midwitch for all you younger ones. Your mother couldn't leave her growing brood to deliver in the hospital so she had home births and I assisted. I delivered your mother too; it used to be my profession before I retired."

"You delivered Mum?" Ron gaped.

"Believe it or not Ronald, your mother was not born into this world a fully formed adult, now hurry and get my things so I can dress for dinner."

Ron was shooed away and he took the stairs two at a time until he was at Muriel's bedroom door. He pushed open the door and began opening drawers in search of the fancy shawl collection. He came across the maroon velvet ribbon and took it while rummaging in more drawers before finding the beaded and lacy shawls, all folded neatly and colour coordinated.

Just as he picked up the maroon lace and draped it over his arm he caught sight of a bunch of papers scattered all over the dressing table. He frowned and sidestepped over to see if they were important enough to put away or frivolous enough to throw out.

He saw the old fashioned curls of Muriel's handwriting and the name of his Healer at St Mungo's.

_I understand that you would usually discharge at this point but I would rather you continued with my grand-nephew's treatment._

_In exchange I will make a sizeable donation to the hospital and I'm sure you can never have too generous a donation can you?_

_There may very well be nothing that can be done for the boy's leg but I will not accept the cessation of his treatment altogether. Nobody should call themselves a Healer if they are prepared to write a young man off when he's barely out of his teens._

"Ronald," Muriel called up to him, making him jump and drop the parchment, "I smell the fish. I believe it's ready now."

"Com-" Ron's voice was unusually high and he stopped to clear his throat before calling again, "Coming."

He hurried down the stairs and paused as he saw Muriel waiting for him. She frowned at him curiously.

"You found them then," she said as she nodded to the shawl and ribbon in his hand.

Ron nodded, dumbly.

"Well give them here and stop looking so gormless, boy," Muriel huffed with impatience, "and get that trout out of the oven before it overcooks."

"Yes Muriel," Ron said meekly before walking to the kitchen.

Ron opened the oven and then reached in to pull out the roasting pan. He hissed and swore as his fingers burned and he pulled back from the oven and plunged his hands under the tap, turning it with his elbow and bathing them in ice cold water.

"Shit, shit, shit!" Ron cursed, eyes stinging with tears.

"Ronald? Ronald? Boy, have you fallen?"

"No," Ron yelped back, "burnt my fingers, 's fine, don't worry!"

"Oh do be more careful you silly thing!" Muriel scolded from the living room.

Ron felt his stinging fingers going numb beneath the running water and swallowed down his jumble of emotions. For years, even that very morning, he thought that Muriel didn't even like him and now he knew that she had delivered him into the world. She has swaddled him in maroon and started a tradition that would drive him mental throughout his life. She had been the reason his Healers wouldn't give up on his knee strengthening exercises.

Muriel...Muriel actually _liked_ him.

He pulled his cold hands out from under the water and turned off the tap. He grabbed his wand and gripped it with unfeeling fingers, swishing and flicking it at the burnt skin before changing hands and healing the other burns too.

"Would you like some wine with your fish Muriel?" Ron called out, still sounding hollow and stunned.

"I have a Riesling in the larder, the shelf with the cooling charm on it, it will be perfect with the trout, does your limited palate extend to wine or would you prefer some of that cloudy muck your mother throws into a glass to accompany dinner?" Muriel called, "Oh and bring some horseradish sauce too. I do like a bit of horseradish with rainbow trout."

"Okay."

Ron prepared the wine and carried it through with two glasses. Muriel was struggling with her ribbon, her fingers couldn't tie the knot and she was getting frustrated.

"Here, let me," Ron said as he took both ends of the velvet ribbon and pulled it beneath her frizzy white hair and up behind her ears to tie it in a bow at the top of her head, "do you want it centered or to one side?"

"Just off to the left please dear, I'd look foolish with a bow in the middle of my head. Your young lady should do something with her hair you know boy? It's such a mess and she never looks very feminine." Muriel said as she sat perfectly still for him.

Ron finished and leaned over to look at her, sternly.

"There y'go, beautiful, nearly as much as Hermione."

"Thank you Ronald," Muriel said in a clipped tone before she clutched his elbow and then slid her hand down so she could examine his hand, "you fixed your burns?"

"Yeah I did, I was clumsy, it's all right now."

Ron draped the maroon shawl around her shoulders and then backed away to get the fish out of the oven. He put on a pair of oven gloves and lifted out the roasting dish, kicking the oven door closed as he rose up again. He served the trout onto two plates and then lit a candle and sent it on ahead of him with a levitation charm.

"It smells a little overdone Ronald," Muriel said as Ron carried the plates through and set them on the small table he'd set up.

"Sorry about that, it would've been perfect if I hadn't burnt myself, my fault Muriel."

"Never mind, it still looks lovely, you clearly didn't learn to cook from your mother" Muriel said as she picked up her cutlery and began to eat.

Ron took a sip of his wine and gave Muriel a reproachful glare over the rim of his glass. He tried not to dwell too much on his strange evening of revelations. Muriel ate in silence for some time before pausing to gulp down half her glass of wine in one. Ron picked up the bottle to top it up for her.

"Candlelit dinner with a handsome young gentleman, who would have thought it for a woman my age eh?" Muriel chuckled.

"I always did like older women," Ron said with a small laugh.

Muriel picked up her knife again and then looked thoughtfully into the candlelight.

"You know Ronald, the last time I got dressed up for dinner was my birthday?"

"Yeah, I remember, your candles almost burnt the house down."

Muriel narrowed her eyes at him and Ron tried not to smirk.

"Cheeky little bugger," she said warningly before cutting another piece of fish.

"Sorry Muriel," Ron mumbled, head down and guilt welling up inside him over his treatment being financed by an enfeebled old woman on her last legs.

Muriel took another bite of fish and chewed slowly before swallowing and looking off to one side as her memory took over again.

"Molly told me to make a wish before extinguishing the candles and do you know what I wished for?"

"Don't tell me, it won't come true!" Ron said as he sputtered on a mouthful of fish.

"But it _has_ come true Ronald." Muriel smiled as she looked back at him, "I wished that I wouldn't have to go into one of those homes for elderly wizards and witches and I didn't. I didn't have to leave at all."

Ron stared at her and tried to smile and nod. Muriel reached over and patted the back of his hand before moving back and picking up her wine glass.

"You do so much for me, Ronald and I wish I could do something for you."

"But, you do," Ron croaked before realising that the letter he'd read was on Muriel's dressing table, unsent and unread by the Healers, and then lifted his glass and held it towards Muriel to clink them together, "Here's to good health."

Muriel clinked her glass to his and they both drank before setting down the glasses again.

"Thank you Ronald," Muriel said as she straightened her shawl over her nightie.

"Wasn't too overdone after all then?" Ron asked with a smile.

Muriel looked him in the eye and made sure he was listening to her.

"No Ronald, _thank you_."

"You're welcome."

"You've done very well for a cripple."

* * *

Ron rolled over in bed and flung his arm out to one side. Feeling a cold empty space he opened his eyes and looked around before remembering that he was alone and sighing as he slumped back onto his pillow and rolled away from the empty half of the bed with a grunt. 

Just as his eyes were closing the room was filled with silver light and he sat bolt upright, staring at the large stag that had just appeared in his bedroom. The animal's lips moved and Harry's voice came out, sending shivers down Ron's spine.

"So I flooed Muriel's and your Mum was there, then I tried the Burrow but you weren't there either, I tried St Mungo's and they said you just left and I even tried the Leaky Cauldron to see if anybody there had seen you using their fireplace but nothing. Where the bloody hell were you all afternoon mate? I really wanted to see you."

Ron bit his lip and stared at the stag as it took a step towards him.

"I'm getting to the end of this Peruvian job and then I've told them I'm coming home for a break. I don't need a break, I don't need a rest really, I've been bored out of my wits of an evening to be honest with you. It's been too long and I hate not getting to talk to you. I really hate it when both of us are away from you at the same time and you're stuck with Muriel all by yourself."

"Come home," Ron whispered and the stag lowered its head and rubbed against the hairs on his arm.

"I miss you, the three of us, Hermione sent me chocolate beans and all I wanted to do was turn to you and see you roll your eyes."

Ron felt himself getting choked up and brushed the back of his hand along the line of the Patronus' jaw.

"Look after yourself and keep your chin up all right? Take care and keep the bed warm. I miss ya mate."

Ron swallowed against the lump at the back of his throat and the stag vaporised into a grey mist that soon dissolved into nothing.

The room was black again.

Ron buried his face into the pillow and whimpered some frustrations into it before rolling over, into the centre of the bed, and spread himself out so it didn't feel so empty.


	4. Part 4

**Leaving (part 4)**

Muriel had been getting rapidly worse and Ron didn't want to tell anyone.

He knew how important it was to the old bat not to be forced to leave her home and he also knew that if he called on his mother to help him out Muriel would become even more abusive. Trying his best to grit his teeth and get on with it, he hurried into the living room when she called out that she needed the loo and threw back the covers to lift her out of bed and carry her to the lavatory.

As soon as the covers were pulled away Muriel's hand cracked him hard across the face.

"What on earth are you doing boy?" Muriel exclaimed in outrage, she pulled the covers back over herself and shoved him away, her hand pushing at his chest, "Get the girl to do it for goodness sake."

"What girl?" Ron frowned, cheek stinging.

"The girl! The girl you stupid idiot!" Muriel hissed, "How _dare_ you expose me like that young man?"

"Muriel I've been taking you to the toilet every day, why are you being so w-"

Muriel balled up her bony fist and struck him in the chest. Ron stepped back and worried his lip between his teeth as he watched the old witch get more confused and upset.

"Get the girl to do it you nasty little thug!"

"What girl? Muriel, Ginny's pregnant, remember?"

"Who the blasted hell is Ginny?" Muriel spat, "Have you got some poor young witch pregnant you cocksure young lout?"

"Ginny's my sister Muriel, don't you remember?" Ron said as he leaned over with great caution to examine his hysterical aunt's face.

"Molly is your sister!" Muriel said gruffly and Ron jumped back out of reach as she swiped at him.

"I'm flooing St Mungo's ok, just stay calm all right?"

"I will not stay calm, I wish to go to the lavatory and I'm going to go now!" Muriel announced before struggling into a sitting position and bracing herself against the bed as she tried to get up.

"Shit," Ron hissed to himself, "Kreacher!"

With a pop the elf was there in an instant.

"Is sir hurt, Kreacher can help, you must lie down and I will make it better," the elf scurried over to Ron, on his knees before the fireplace, and tried to roll him over.

"No Kreacher, I'm fine, it's Muriel. Please don't let her hurt herself. I have to Floo call for a Healer to come and see her. Something's wrong with her."

"I will assist the mistress," Kreacher said with a nod before running to Muriel's bedside and bowing low before her.

Muriel kicked the servile elf in the face and Ron cringed and grabbed a handful of Floo powder to make the call.

* * *

He'd asked at the desk but the Milk man wasn't at his usual digs so he sat on the steps out the front and propped his head up with his hands.

"Why didn't you phone me?" the voice made Ron jump and he sat bolt upright and stared up into the frowning face of the Milk man.

"Phone?" Ron repeated, dumbly.

"Did you lose my number or something?"

Ron looked at the back of his hand, perfectly clean now and rubbed it.

"You gave me a phone number," he said to himself, "why did you call it...?"

Ron stalled as he saw the Milk man pulling a slim black box from his pocket and pushing buttons on it with his thumb.

"See," he said, looking a little put out, "no missed calls."

Ron suddenly understood the concept of a phone that wasn't connected by wires and, to be literal, mobile.

"I'm sorry," he said as he let his head drop and he waited for the Milk man to start calling him names.

There were no names though, instead he felt the man sitting beside him on the steps and putting an arm around his shoulders.

"What's happened? What's the matter?"

"My auntie...got worse." Ron was struggling to speak without choking up so he drew in a shuddering breath and rubbed at his face, roughly.

"Shit, sorry, is she...did she...?"

"She wouldn't let them take her to hospital so there are people from the hospital monitoring her for the day and if she doesn't improve they're taking her in as an involuntary patient."

"Well at least they're looking after her eh? It could be worse."

"No it couldn't!" Ron said as he lifted his head and looked at Milk man, imploring him to understand, "She didn't want to be taken into hospital, she told me she wanted to stay in her home and it was the one thing I was able to do for her. The only thing I could do that made her happy and now they're gonna..."

"Shhhh," the Milk man said as he rubbed Ron's back, "it's ok."

"She doesn't wanna die in a hospital." Ron strained to make himself audible.

"Stop that and tell me what actually happened? Did she fall? Did she have a stroke?"

"Her po...medicine doesn't do any good any more, she has to go on something stronger and if that hasn't made a difference by tonight they're taking her."

"Did they send you out for a break or did you do a runner?" Milk man said as he took in the sight of Ron with unlaced trainers and no jacket.

"My Mum's there, Muriel didn't recognise me and kept screaming at me to go so they told me it'd be best if I just went away for a few hours while the new treatments took affect."

Milk man nodded and they sat together on the steps in silence for several minutes.

"Did you know you have a handprint on the side of your face?" Milk man asked with a subdued smile.

Ron laughed and rubbed at the spot Muriel had slapped him.

"She's got a hell of a swing for an old lady."

Milk man got to his feet and extended his hand to Ron.

"C'mon, let's get a room."

"Look we don't have to, I can just as easily sit in one of these cafes," Ron gestured to the cheap coffee shops and cafes across the road from the dingy Bed and Breakfast.

"But you can't lie down and get some shut-eye in those places," Milk man said as he reached down and grabbed Ron's hand to pull him up to his feet, "you could do with some peace and quiet and I haven't reclined on that floor for ages."

Ron met his mischievous smile with a laugh as he let himself be led up the steps.

"Y'know I think I can trust you enough for you to lie on the bed with me...clothes on and no touching of course."

"Of course," Milk man nodded, "c'mon.

* * *

When he woke up it was still light outside the window. He could hear the steady breathing of the Milk man beside him and rolled over to look at his Muggle friend.

As he lifted his hand to tap Milk man on the shoulder and let him know he should be getting back to his family he noticed that the number was written on the back of his hand again. He ran his finger over it and smiled to himself.

Sitting up on the bed he took a deep breath in and out before spotting the pen on the covers between them and picking it up. He rolled the writing implement between his fingers before smiling down at his sleeping friend and shifting around onto his side so he was facing the sleeping Muggle man.

He touched the nib on the pen to the back of the rough hand where it rested on the pillow and the sleeping man didn't wake. He pressed down and wrote four letters where he felt they belonged.

M. I. L. K.

Something about that made things feel right again, in order and as they should be. He rolled away and off the bed and pulled on his trainers before glancing at the newly re-branded Milk man, chuckled to himself, and then left the room as quietly as possible.

* * *

Ron stepped into the house and held his breath to listen.

"I feel a draught, Molly, there's a draught!" Muriel bellowed from the living room.

"It's ok Muriel, it's me," Ron called as he closed the door behind him.

Kreacher ran through and flung himself at Ron's legs, clinging to them and apologising profusely for his inadequacies and for being nothing but a disappointment to Muriel.

"Hey, calm down there, it's all right," he said as he patted the top of the knobbly bald head, comfortingly.

"Ronnie!" Ron's mother sighed with relief as she stepped into the hallway, wiping her hands on her apron, and smiling at him wearily.

She opened her arms wide and Ron walked into them for a hug. His mother whispered into the side of his face so only he could hear.

"I want her to go onto the ward but she won't go. She's too much for you all on your own Ronnie, you have to tell the Healers that you can't cope and they can take her as an involuntary patient."

Ron held onto his mother and stared into the cocoon of her loose hair in front of his face.

"Ronald, Ronald, get in here and tell these oafs to leave my property this instant!" Muriel demanded in her most booming of voices.

Ron released his hold on his mother and she patted the side of his face, sadly, before giving him a kiss on the cheek and ushering him through to his aunt in the living room.

"Don't feel guilty Ronnie dear, you've done your best but she's just impossible to handle alone," his mother muttered.

"Ronald, tell these people to go and get that grovelling Gnome out of my sight too," Muriel spat as she scowled at Kreacher.

"He's a House elf Muriel, you remember I told you Harry has a House Elf who comes when I need help?" Ron said as he cautiously tested his aunt's memory.

"I know what a House elf should look like that that thing is not a decent House elf." Muriel pointed at a cowering Kreacher, "Your _friend_ Harry Potter could give you coal and convince you it was a diamond!"

"Muriel, stop that at once," Ron's mother chided her aunt to no effect.

The bedridden woman reached out and clutched at the thin air between them, encouraging Ron to move closer, and when he was near enough to grab she yanked him to her side and clung to him while glaring at the gathering of Healers surrounding the bed.

"Tell them, tell them you can take care of me," Muriel instructed, "he's a good boy and he knows my wishes."

Ron swallowed as he remembered Muriel's birthday wish.

"Mr Weasley," one of the Healers said, clearly tired from an afternoon with Muriel, "you weren't able to handle your Aunt this morning, I'm right in saying that, yes?"

"Um," Ron said, voice scratchy against his dry throat, "well she was a bit o-"

"He was scared out of his wits and she'd hit him," Ron's mother interrupted as she pointed down at Muriel.

"Mrs Weasley, please," the Healer said, sternly.

"Yes, shut up Molly, you've voiced your opinions and they still don't matter!" Muriel said nastily.

"Don't talk to her like that," Ron said, scolding the old woman in her bed.

Muriel looked more worried than ashamed as she held her tongue and bowed her head. Clearly she knew that she had to do as she was told if she was going to win Ron over.

"Mr Weasley, we understand that you are suffering from a physical impairment and that caring for a woman of your aunt's age in her present condition is putting you under a great deal of strain. We really do believe it would be best if take her into a Ministry funded wing of the hospital for long term care."

"I would have to share a big room with all sorts of riff-raff and I won't have any of my own things with me, if I did they would get stolen from me!" Muriel tugged at Ron's t shirt and looked up at him with desperate eyes.

"This morning, you didn't know who I was, you said I was Molly's brother," Ron said with a wince of apology.

"Well, that was the fault of one potion, your aunt built up an immunity to it and the other potion that she took to counteract the side effects ended up putting her into a confused state," the Healer explained, "that won't happen again but that's not the point. The point is that your aunt is going to deteriorate from now onwards and if you struggled today..."

"Mum," Ron said as he turned to his mother, "my leg won't ever get better and one day I won't be able to get around at all. How would you feel about Harry or Hermione putting me on a ward like that for the rest of my life?"

"Ronnie that isn't the same thing and you kno-"

"Would you put me on that ward if it was me who couldn't get out of bed?" Ron said, lifting his head and fixing his gaze on her, knowing his mother had a weakness for defiant blue eyes – the same eyes as her dead brothers.

"I wouldn't," she said before shaking her head and waving a desperate arm at Muriel, "but I don't want to see you wear yourself down, taking on too much, and Muriel knows that it isn't fair on you."

"Ronald," Muriel tugged at his t shirt again, "I won't go and they can't man-handle me out of my property, I won't have it. You aren't going to stand by and let them wrestle me out of my bed are you?"

Ron sighed deeply and looked at the Healers.

"She doesn't want to leave her house."

"But Mr Weasley..."

"She said she doesn't want to," Ron spoke with more confidence the second time around, "you said she's not senile, there's nothing wrong with her mind, that's what you said right? Well if that's the case then her opinion is still valid and she said she didn't want to go so she's not going."

Muriel swelled in triumph and looked at the Healers with smug satisfaction.

"Her opinion is only valid if she has somebody here to care for her Mr Weasley. If she is living alone she can't look after herself and we are obliged to take her into our care for her own sake."

"But she isn't living alone," Ron said, feeling Muriel shoving him in the small of his back and forward to send off the Healers with their tails between their legs.

"Ronnie, Muriel can come to the Burrow and live with us, we can all share the burd-responsibility," his mother said as she tried to coax him around to her way of thinking.

"I am not leaving my home to live in that shack of yours Molly!" Muriel snapped.

"I told you to stop that," Ron warned and Muriel seethed but backed down instantly.

"Ronnie, you need help with her, she's too much for you now," his mother pleaded with him.

Ron drew in a deep breath and let it out, eyes closing as he did, and then shook his head.

"Ginny's almost due, your fuse is too short to handle that and Muriel, and there's not enough room to have her bed in the living room and the rest of the family squeezed into the kitchen. That's why we ruled out the Burrow the first time."

"I'm not going," Muriel mumbled.

"She's staying and I'm staying with her and we'll be ok," Ron said, hardly believing it himself.

The Healers gave up and packed their things before Flooing back to the hospital one at a time. Ron's mother looked very unhappy about the situation and dragged him through to the kitchen while Muriel silently gloated.

"Ronnie dear, I don't want to leave you here alone," his mother said as she cupped his face in her hands.

"It's no different to how it was last week or the week before or the one before that," Ron said with a smile and a shrug.

"But it is different," she said, glumly, "this morning you couldn't cope with her any more. This morning you got hurt and upset and overwhelmed..."

"And I dealt with it and got people here to help her and now her battle-axe is sharper than ever," Ron said, puffing out his skinny chest.

She swamped him with one of her all enveloping hugs and he relaxed into her body and wrapped his arms around her to rub her back.

"You look so tired and unhappy," she whimpered into his hair.

"You don't exactly look rambunctious Mum," Ron chuckled, muffled by her body.

"She's going to get worse, it'll be more work, harder work every day until...Ronnie I don't want to leave you here alone with her. She's too much weight for your narrow shoulders."

"I'm stronger than you give me credit for y'know?" Ron said as he leaned back to force his mother's gaze to meet his, "I won't be alone for long either, Harry and Hermione are finishing up their jobs and they'll be back to help out and give me more of a break. It'll be all right."

She swallowed and then released him to dab her wet eyes with her apron.

"You must promise me something Ronnie," she sniffed.

"Go on then," Ron groaned, rolling his eyes.

"I mean it," she said as she grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him, "I want you to promise me that if anything happens to me or your father you will not be our caretaker."

"Mum," Ron exclaimed, "no!"

"Promise me!" She ordered.

"I can't, I won't, if you or Dad needed looking after I'd look after you."

"I forbid it," she said, sternly, "it's against my wishes Ronald Bilius Weasley, and I don't want you to be our carer."

"I don't care," Ron said, just as inflexible as his mother was.

"Yes you do Ronnie," she said with a knowing smile, "you can visit me every day on whatever ward in whatever hospital I end up but you will not stop your life to sit with me for the end of mine."

"Stop it," Ron said, voice small and almost child like.

"Promise me."

He shook his head.

"I'm Muriel's next of kin, I can overrule your decision to stay here and get her put into that ward. I can declare you enfeebled and take charge and neither of you can have a say in it." Molly threatened.

"So why didn't you?" Ron said, filled with hurt and confusion.

"Because I trust my boy's decisions," Molly said, eyes welling with tears, "and I want to support them, and I would like to know that he respects my decisions in the same way."

Ron's head dropped.

"George'll look after you 'n Dad, Bill, Percy, Gin...Charlie'll...Charlie'll...pretend you're dragons and take you in to nurse you."

They both cracked a little and laughed. Then they clung to each other again and Ron felt his mother planting a kiss on the side of his head, through his hair, before Muriel's voice shattered the silence.

"Ronald, I'm ready for my dinner and you need to turn on the lamps, it's getting dark and I'm straining my eyes!"

"I'd better..." Ron nodded towards the open door to the living room.

"Yes," his mother said softly as she nodded and gathered up her things from the kitchen table, "you can always call on me to come and help more often. You can change your mind and let the Healers take over at any time too, remember that love? Never think this was your only chance to be set free."

"I'll be ok Mum, get back to Ginny, she's gone without a row with you all day. That's got to make her feel a little neglected."

They smiled at each other and Ron saw his mother to the fireplace and watched her vanish in the emerald flames.

"Thank goodness," Muriel huffed, "I have my home to myself again. This has been a most unpleasant day Ronald."

"Yeah," he agreed with a sigh.

"Well what are you standing around for? You've had all day off while I was stuck in here with all those interfering busybodies. Get the dinner on you lazy little..."

Ron stood before her and stared, arms folded across his chest.

"I'm waiting Muriel," he said, coolly.

The woman shifted uncomfortably against her pillow and then muttered into her chest.

"I'm sorry Ronald."

"And?" Ron pressed further.

"Thank you."

"_And?_"

"I don't know what more you want from me boy," Muriel blurted before lowering her eyes again.

"Would you like me to make you something for dinner Muriel?"

The old witch huffed and gave a tut of impatience before answering.

"I already told you that!"

Ron lifted his eyebrows expectantly and waited. Muriel finally registered his point and conceded that she had been rude with a single nod and two words.

"Please Ronald."

Ron set off towards the kitchen and Kreacher scampered after him from his hiding place behind the door.

"I can help with the dinner, you sit and Kreacher will do it!"

"I have an order for you Kreacher," Ron said, voice low so he couldn't be overheard.

"Yes sir?" Kreacher said as he stood to attention and clasped his hands together in eagerness.

"I want you to go to Hermione, have tea with her, let her make it if she insists, and if she gives you money you are to take it and thank her without cringing. Got all that?"

"But..." Kreacher looked revolted at the command.

"Haven't finished yet," Ron said, finger raised, "after Hermione go to Harry, stop on the way and buy him chocolate with the money Hermione gave you, give it to him and tell him it's from me and Hermione."

Kreacher looked happy with this second part of his instructions and nodded, brightly.

"When you see them both," Ron said, "tell 'em...tell 'em..."

"Ronald," Muriel called out from her bed, "may I have the wireless on please?"

Ron closed his eyes and sighed.

"Master Weasley?" Kreacher asked, expectantly.

"Just tell 'em I said hi."


	5. Part 5

**Leaving (part 5)**

"Hello?"

"Um hi?"

"Yeah?"

"It's Ron."

"Ron!"

"It's you then? I got the phone to work properly?" Ron said, excitedly.

He was standing in the phone box at the corner of the street in the nearest Muggle town to Muriel's house.

"Yeah it's me," the Milk man said, sounding confused, "How do you mean you got the phone to work? Have you...Ron have you not used a phone before?"

Ron immediately felt as if he'd dropped a clanger and his stomach turned.

"Errr...once before, apparently I shouted too much."

"You prat," Milk man said with exasperation, Ron felt himself blushing and was thankful he couldn't be seen by the Muggle man at that precise moment, "why didn't you tell me you didn't use phones?"

Ron was silent for a moment.

"Ron? C'mon, don't be embarrassed."

"Well it's a bit odd isn't it? It's unusual for a person not to have a phone or a phone number or...anything like that."

"It's different but that's fine. You should have said that when I was having a go at you for not calling me."

"Yeah, sorry, I'm a twat," Ron conceded.

"Not really, just unique," Milk man chuckled, "oh and thanks for the note, very abstract!"

Ron laughed.

"Well I didn't have a number to give you and there wasn't enough room on your hand to write a full scale explanation of why I'd gone while you were asleep."

"So you wrote the word milk?"

"Yeah."

There was a considerable pause.

"Y'know that does make a ridiculous kind of sense?"

Ron grinned, pleased with himself for not having messed things up.

"So did you want to meet up or did you want to have a chat?"

"Well I don't have enough coins to make the phone keep going so I thought..."

"I'll be in room 14," Milk man said immediately.

"What time?"

"Until you get there."

* * *

He knocked on the door and waited for it to open, wide grin on his face and pint of milk in his hand.

The door opened and the Milk man looked at him, looked at the milk bottle, and doubled over with laughter.

"Yes!" Ron said, bouncing on the balls of his feet, "It _was_ funny, I knew it!"

"You are..." the Milk man said with a shake of the head and a disbelieving laugh, "Get in here ya nutter!"

* * *

The hours had passed and they had eaten lunch, picked up some cans of beer, and discussed life, the universe and everything.

"I could be happy around women but I never loved them," Milk man said with a sigh, "I mean I could see why a person could love a particular woman, friends of mine y'know, but I never really understood the lust. There was never any lust there."

"So you never want to squeeze boobs?" Ron frowned, utterly bewildered by the concept of a man not being fascinated by breasts.

"Boobs are just an arse at the front...and slightly higher."

"With nipples," Ron chortled before looking thoughtful again, "But I still don't get it, boobs don't feel the same as bottoms. Small boobs don't even look like bums at all, no cleavage and that."

"You like cleavage?" Milk man asked, eyebrow cocked.

"Actually no," Ron said, nose crinkling, "my Mum has a colossal chest so big ones remind me of her and hers are great for cuddles and stuff but...ugh...no!"

"Ahhh...you have a big strong maternal figure, now I understand."

"Understand what?" Ron blinked.

"Why it is you are fond of boobies!" Milk man grinned.

"I'm not fond of them, I'm just not against them, they don't repel me. I like them," he said with an assured nod.

"Anyone's in particular?" Milk man probed.

Ron's ears pinked up at the tips and he looked away to take a swig from his can of beer.

"It's ok, you can talk about her if ya like."

"We were talking about you I think," Ron muttered into his chest, ears burning a darker shade of red under the gaze of the Milk man.

"I always want to know everything about my new friends and less and less about the old ones!" Milk man grinned, nudging Ron in the ribs to relax him a little more.

"Don't, I'm ticklish!" Ron said as he squirmed away from the Milk man.

"Ahhh!" Milk man said, eyes twinkling with mischief.

Ron flung himself back on the bed and threw his arms forward to hold off the impending tickle attack while kicking out with his legs.

"Seriously, you don't want to do this," Ron warned, nervously, "the last time my brothers pinned me down and tickled me I broke Charlie's nose. I can't be held accountable for who I kick when I'm being tickled!"

"The only way to get someone to tell you the truth is to make them laugh," the Milk man said as he loomed over Ron, fingers waggling.

"That's not actually true!" Ron said, pointing a finger at Milk man.

"Tell me a better way then?"

"I'm not allowed, your fragile little brain will explode," Ron teased, breaths short and defences up and ready to fight off a tickle attack.

"Right!"

"No!"

Before contact was made Ron's long legs were flailing, wildly, and the Milk man almost fell backwards off the bed to avoid getting kicked.

"Bloody hell, you're lethal, I didn't even touch you!"

"I warned you, I have no self control when threatened with a tickling," Ron laughed as he sat up.

"So how else am I going to get you to talk?" the Milk Man pouted.

"About what?" Ron shrugged, panting lightly from the excitement.

"About the reason I have to douse my flaming torch with cold water every time I see you," Milk man huffed, "Tell me about your love life. I know you have somebody, I know they left you, I don't know why you're still waiting for them."

"Because I love th... They're coming back soon." Ron said, defensively, sitting back on his elbows.

"But they left you," Milk man said with a blank sort of disbelief.

"They have to work," Ron said irritably.

"You work too, you work every minute of the day you aren't sitting in this crummy doss house with me, and you're lonely and miserable and they don't seem to care."

"They do!" Ron snapped, "You don't bloody know."

"Then tell me! Tell me why you're so loyal to them when they can so easily leave you when you clearly need support and companionship."

"Maybe they have more faith in me than you do," Ron said with a scowl, "Maybe they don't think I need saving. Maybe they don't treat me like a useless bloody cripple. Mayb-"

"Maybe they're taking you for granted, taking it for granted that you won't ever meet anybody else, that nobody else would want 'a useless bloody cripple'!"

"Just leave it," Ron growled.

"I fancy you," Milk man said, abruptly.

"I know," Ron squirmed, awkwardly, "you said before."

"I wanna kiss you."

"I'm taken," Ron said, averting his eyes from the intense ones boring into him.

"Ron, I'm actually...falling for you. I need a reason why I can't. Where the fuck are they?"

"Abroad alright? I don't go behind people's backs as soon as they leave the country." Ron made a move to roll off the bed.

"And off he goes again!" Milk man said, throwing his arms into the air, "You always tell me how much you hate it back there and yet you go running back at the drop of a hat."

Ron slumped back on the bed.

"It's complicated."

"Ron, I'm gay, I know complications and judgements and prejudices. Tell me how they can stand to make you this miserable."

Ron bit his bottom lip and looked up at the Milk man with his scolded puppy eyes.

"Because I don't let them know how bad it is, I don't want pity, it's bad enough that I've always been a charity case but I've never been weak before. I want them to be with me, not look after me."

"Ron," the Milk man said as he lay at the redhead's side and propped his head up with a crooked elbow, "strength doesn't come from physical ability. It comes from indomitable will."

"You sound like an old headmaster of mine," Ron said with a sad smile.

"It's actually a bloke called Gandhi," the Milk man shrugged.

They shared a weighty silence, marked only by sighs, and it was Ron who spoke first.

"It's not enough just to do your best y'know? Sometimes you have to do what's needed, even if you're crap at it. I'm crap at looking after Muriel. I'm crap at keeping it together and I'm crap without them."

"Ron..."

"It's not about liking boobs or liking cock or somebody being here for me or not being around for weeks at a time," Ron said as he sat up and tapped his fingers together in front of him for something to do, "there's no cure for how much I love them other than to love them more...and they don't need to be here for me to do that."

The Milk man's eyes blazed and his voice sounded raw.

"They'd better know how lucky they are."

Ron swallowed and gave a single nod.

* * *

Muriel was sitting in her armchair by the fire, glass of Milk Stout in her hand, while Ron stripped the bedding from the mattress and carried it through to the kitchen to dump into the metal tub of near boiling water.

He cast an agitation charm on the bedding and then put a washboard half way into the tub and flicked his wand at a blanket, causing it to scrub itself up and down against the ridges of the washboard.

Satisfied with the progress of the washing, Ron went to the linen cupboard and pulled out some clean sheets, pillowcases and a blanket.

"Ronald, do try to colour coordinate this time won't you?" Muriel called, "I was like an explosion of custard in a tartan factory last time."

"I have sage green and lilac, is that ok?" Ron called down, frowning at his load.

"Of course not!" Muriel sputtered on her mouthful of stout.

"Oh bloody hell," Ron huffed, "what about creamy coloured sheets with the lilac blanket then?"

"That will do," Muriel said, approvingly.

Ron carried the bedding to the living room, grumbling all the way there that it didn't really matter and all she was going to do was sleep in them, and gaped as he threw down his load onto the bed and saw Muriel draining her glass dry.

"Bloody hell woman; that must've been half a pint in one mouthful!"

"Language Ronald!" Muriel said before pausing to stifle a burp and wipe her mouth with the back of her hand, "Don't exaggerate. You're making me sound as if I drink copious amounts all the time."

Ron snorted but didn't say a word.

"I only have a Milk Stout for my health after dinner," Muriel continued talking, either to Ron or to herself, it didn't appear to matter either way, "wine on a Sunday, Champagne at weddings, sherry at Christmas and warmed Mead when a have a chill."

"You forgot the brandy," Ron mumbled to himself.

"Brandy at social events obviously," Muriel added as she looked into her empty glass, "Are you quite sure you poured the whole bottle Ronald? I should have the whole lot; the iron is good for my blood you know?"

"I poured the whole bottle in that glass for you Muriel," Ron said as she stuffed one of the pillows into a pillowcase.

"Are they making the bottles smaller these days?" Muriel frowned as she held the glass back to judge if it was a smaller glass than she usually had.

"Nope," Ron said as he unfurled the sheet and billowed it out and let it fall over the bare mattress, "do you not feel fortified enough Muriel?"

"Don't mock me boy, I was only asking a reasonable question!" Muriel snapped as she turned in her armchair to scowl at him.

Ron smirked and tucked the bottom sheet in, tightly.

"I can open another bottle for you if you want another," Ron offered.

"I am not the sort of woman who drinks two whole bottles of stout in one evening Ronald!" Muriel declared with indignance.

Ron paused; top sheet spread across his cheat as he pulled it open at arm's length, and looked at his aunt with hesitancy.

"I could pour you a small Firewhisky...if you felt like a bit of a nightcap?"

"Oh that'd be nice, yes."

Ron smirked to himself and flung the sheet out and flicked it to bring it down onto the bed and tuck it in.

"I'll get it as soon as I finish up here."

"Yes I rarely drink at all, just a Milk Stout for my health... Champagne at weddings...sherry at Christmas and Mead when I'm ill."

"Brandy and Firewhisky," Ron added under his breath.

"On occasion a brandy or a Firewhisky, yes. I really rarely ever drink at all."

Ron was fighting back his chuckle as he spread the lilac blanket over the bed and then pulled back the covers at the side of the bed ready for Muriel to slide in.

"Right, one small Firewhisky," Ron said, clapping his hands together and setting off for the kitchen.

"Let's not scrimp, Ronald, fill the tumbler more than a splash."

"One medium Firewhisky coming up," Ron nodded.

"Just a jot over medium maybe?" Muriel called.

"So a large Firewhisky then?" Ron grinned.

"For yourself as well," Muriel said with a tut, "if I'm having a drink with my young nephew it's only social for us to have the same measure."

"That's very generous of you Muriel," Ron said as he ducked into the kitchen and covered his breaking laughter with the back of his hand.

"Yes well, you've worked hard today. I'm very impressed boy."

Ron stopped laughing and waited for the stinging insult. It never came. He blinked and then reached up into the cupboard for the bottle of Firewhisky and two glasses.

As he carried the two glasses of Firewhisky into the living room Muriel was replacing a framed photograph on the side table. Ron glanced at it as he stooped and made sure Muriel had a good grip on the glass before letting it go.

"Is that your sister?" Ron asked as he nodded towards the photo.

"My niece, your grandmother," Muriel said before taking a large swig from her glass.

"Really?" Ron said as he looked closer and saw some familiar family features smiling back at him, "You and Nana were close?"

"My sister was overwhelmed by brats, larger family than yours you know?" Muriel said, sloshing her glass into Ron's chest, "Watch what you're doing you clumsy boy!"

"Sorry Muriel," Ron said as he moved back a little way.

"Your grandmother would come to visit me to escape the madhouse. We got on very well until she met that oaf of a husband and got married. Then she spawned her own family of hellions and I hardly saw her anymore."

Ron sipped from his glass to keep from telling Muriel to stop putting down his mother.

"Take you for example," Muriel nodded towards Ron before gulping down more of her drink, "if you had some demanding witch taking up all your time you'd never bother to sit here with me, make my bed, see I eat well..."

"Who says I don't have a witch?" Ron said defensively.

"Oh so you call that mess of hair who can't be bothered to even visit a 'significant other' do you?" Muriel snorted.

"Why are you so rude about Hermione?" Ron asked as he moved away from Muriel and stomped away.

"Why isn't she here, helping you, if she's so wonderful? Do you know Ronald I've never seen you courting anybody? William courted the French thing before marrying her, well the other one isn't going to even look at another human being what with him wasting his time on animals, Percival is a good boy, civil tongue in his head, but far too self involved to deal with any woman."

"Is anybody good enough for you?" Ron hissed as he banged down his glass and glared at her.

"Maybe you should ask your 'Hermione' the same thing," Muriel snorted as she downed the rest of the Firewhisky in one go, "or better still the wonderful Mr Potter!"

"Why are you talking about them?" Ron said, stamping back to stand before her, defensively.

"Your skin is marked all over, when it's there at all," Muriel waved her empty glass at the shiny scar tissue on Ron's upper arm, "and you lost a kneecap, your brother an ear..._and_ a whole twin!"

"Shut up," Ron said, voice a low growl.

"If he thought you were good enough to be a part of his family he would have married your poor sister so she didn't bring a bastard into the family and if your precious Muggle girl thought anything of you or your family she wouldn't be distancing herself from you would she?"

Muriel was slurring her speech now and Ron was blazing with fury.

"You don't know what you're talking about. You don't know either of them, not like I do."

"Oh tish," Muriel began before Ron bellowed at her, shaking all over in his rage.

"You don't see the good in anyone do you Muriel? Nobody's good enough, nobody can do enough, nobody can meet your bloody standards. Well look around you at all your friends. See the room full of doting relatives offering to take care of you. Name me one other person in this family who would take this much shit from you and not bloody well throttle you!"

"Ronald Weasley, I never w-"

"_No you never bloody did_!" Ron yelled, "My 'significant other' will come back to me. They miss me and they're coming back," Ron's voice began to shudder, "When people leave _you_ Muriel...how many of them come back?"

Muriel was speechless.

"If I ever get married to my 'Muggle girl' or my...an-and my...I wouldn't want them to come back, to spend any time with you. If they owled me tomorrow saying they were on their way home I'd tell them to stay away from here because I'm ashamed of you."

Muriel's mouth opened but still Ron went on.

"You have money, you have a respected name in society," Ron said as he looked down on her, "and if somebody asked me I would deny I was related to you."

"Ronald, stop it," Muriel said, submissively.

"What about when I ask you to stop it eh?" Ron said as his eyes welled up, "What about giving me one day where you don't slag off my mother?"

"I'm sorry," Muriel said as she bowed her head.

Ron rubbed at his eyes with the heel of his palm and composed himself before stepping towards his great aunt and taking a couple of bracing breaths as he slipped his arms into position.

"One...two...three."

He grunted and lifted Muriel out of her armchair, pausing to adjust his hold and plant his feet a little better, and then turning and carrying her to her bed. Muriel wrapped her arms around his neck, loosely, and didn't say a word.

Ron set her down on the newly made bed and pulled the crisp, clean covers over her before extinguishing the lights and turning to head up the stairs to his own bedroom.

"Goodnight Ronald," Muriel called after him.

Ron paused halfway up the stairs and remained looking straight ahead.

"I'm probably gonna apologise for this tomorrow morning, but just so you know...I meant every word of that. 'Night Muriel."


	6. Part 6

**Leaving (part 6)**

Ron was clearing out his bedroom to make some space. He was going to engorge his bed to make it as large as he could and there was clutter piled up against every wall that needed to be boxed up and put away in the attic.

Muriel was listening to a murder mystery story on the wireless and was being fairly undemanding for her. He'd cooked her a breakfast and left her with a large cup of tea before setting off on his tidying mission. It felt strange to be so motivated, especially to clean, but his mood was bright and Pig was flitting in and out of the room merrily.

He thought about how proud Hermione would be of him as he labelled each box clearly and levitated it up and into the attic. After a cleaning charm on the now exposed carpet, Ron swept his wand across the bed and whipped it in large, slow circles until it had swelled to three times its size and almost filled the room entirely.

He grinned as he finished and turned to leave when an owl arrived, accompanied by a twittering Pig, and dropped a roll of parchment at Ron's feet before batting Pig out of the way with its wing and soaring back outside without a pause.

Ron stooped to pick up the parchment just as there was a knock at the front door.

"Ronald! Ronald! There's somebody at the door!" Muriel was calling out, sounding slightly worried.

Wizarding folk rarely used front doors; they were simply there for show, so for somebody to be knocking on the door could only mean one thing. Either a Muggle was outside or something official needed to be dealt with.

Ron took the stairs two at a time until he landed heavily at the bottom and opened the door, Muriel clutching her wand tightly as she watched him like a hawk, and saw a young man in Honeydukes robes smiling at him.

"Mr Ron Weasley?" the man asked, cheerfully.

"Yeah," Ron said with suspicion.

"Deluxe chocolate selection for you," the man beamed as he handed over a wicker basket filled to the brim with every kind of chocolate Honeydukes made.

"Um...thanks but I didn't order-"

"There's a card," the man pointed into the basket before waving and stepping beyond the protection surrounding Muriel's house and Disapparating.

"Ronald, what on earth...?" Muriel said, looking stunned as Ron turned towards her with the basket and banged the door closed with his bottom.

"I dunno," Ron shrugged before setting the basket down on Muriel's bed and pulling the card free to open it up and read it.

His heart sunk.

_I know I told you we were almost done and I was coming home but there's been a change of plan._

Ron turned and walked into the kitchen, still reading the card while Muriel stopped examining the contents of the gift basket and called after him.

"Ronald, Ronald what's the matter?"

_The department want us to come home via Botswana...stopping there to deal with some business...for a few weeks._

"Ronald!"

"One minute Muriel," Ron said, voice a distant echo of itself.

_You've been doing great and I'll see you soon. By the time you finish that chocolate I'll be there, I promise. I'll be there and I'll help with Muriel._

_I'm so sorry, I miss you more than you can imagine._

_Just a few weeks more._

Ron bit his lip and read the familiar signature at the bottom of the card at the same moment the roll of parchment slipped from his fingers and fell to the floor. He bent over with a grunt and picked it up, knowing what it was going to say before he even broke the seal. It could only say one thing.

_I am so angry!_

_I was packed up and ready to come home and at the last minute a Howler wakes the whole country telling me I've been reassigned to the Svalbard Islands. I haven't packed anything for that type of climate, I'll freeze!_

_But that's not why I'm angry._

_Ron, you won't believe how much I've been pining for you – it's pathetic. I was almost there, almost back with you to give you a hand and a break and so much more and now I'll be in the Artic for up to a month._

_At least you won't be alone though. Your shadow will be back at your side so at least I'll know you're happier than you were. _

_Time just can't move fast enough. Don't have too much fun without me, I'll get jealous._

Ron slammed both palms flat against the table and hunched over it with a partially withheld curse leaving his lips.

"Ronald?" Muriel called through from the living room, "They're not coming back are they?"

Ron drew in a deep breath and forced himself to lift his heavy head before pushing away from the table and turning to stride back into the living room.

"Help yourself to chocolate Muriel, I'm just going upstairs for a bit," he said, subdued.

As he passed the bed Muriel grabbed him about the wrist and tried to tug him back.

"Come here boy."

Ron tried to twist his arm out of her grip without meeting her eyes.

"I really can't handle you being smug about this right now," Ron said, bitterly.

Muriel pulled at his arm a little harder, tightening her grip around his wrist, and spoke with more authority.

"Sit down here Ronald, don't argue with me."

Ron let out the deep bracing breath he'd taken and let himself be pulled onto the side of the bed. His shoulders slumped and his face was down turned. Muriel pulled at his sweatshirt and kept at it until Ron followed the tug and leaned towards her. Soon the bony old arms were around him and his face was buried into her chunky cardigan.

"There, there boy, let Auntie Muriel take care of you."

"No," Ron said as he pulled away, "I don't need...I'm fine."

"Get your Elf to come for the evening," Muriel said as she let him go, "I'll tolerate the ugly thing for tonight and you can go out to see your other friends."

"I don't really feel li-" Ron began, shaking his head.

"Well go back to your mother's and sleep in your own bed," Muriel said insistently.

"Muriel I'm fine, really," Ron said as he pulled himself together and lifted the basket off the bed.

"Call your Elf and go up to bed for a nap then," Muriel snapped, losing her patience with being nice to somebody.

Ron looked at her and set the basket down at the side of the bed. He pulled out a bag of chocolate pearls and moved around the bed to lie on top of the covers beside Muriel. He set the open bag between them and took two pearls out, giving one to Muriel and popping one into his own mouth.

"I'll stay down here and listen to your story with you on the wireless," Ron said thickly.

Muriel looked happy enough with this and they relaxed with the bag of chocolate and let the rest of the mystery play out.

* * *

The room was dark and the evening news was crackling from the direction of the wireless. Ron blinked his eyes and looked around.

"Did I fall asleep?" His voice was rough and low as he pulled himself up into a sitting position.

The fire was dying out in the grate and none of the lamps were lit. Ron couldn't see the clock on the wall but guessed that he must have slept through Muriel's potions time.

"Oh shit," he hissed before jumping off the bed and re-stoking the fire, lighting the lamps and crouching at Muriel's side, "Muriel...Muriel, wake up, we missed afternoon potions. Come on ya old bat, sit up for me."

Muriel didn't stir. Ron grabbed her shoulder and gave her a gentle shake.

"Muriel?"

Not a murmur, not a movement, so he shook her a little harder.

"Muriel?"

She cleared her throat but still didn't open her eyes. Ron went totally limp with relief and pulled open the drawer beside Muriel's bed and flipped open a small tin.

"Wakey wakey Muriel, potions time, sorry I overslept."

He pushed his arm beneath Muriel's body and heaved her upright before holding the tin in front of her face and wafting it under her nose.

"Liven up for me and I can drug you and feed you. You know how much you liked to be drugged and fed eh?" Ron said in a coaxing manner while his aunt stirred in his arms.

She opened her eyes and looked dazedly around the room. Ron sat her back against the pillow and then sprung up from the bed to run to the kitchen for Muriel's potions. He forgot that the basket was at his feet and had to quickly swerve to keep from falling over it. His knee suddenly slipped and he winced and threw his weight onto his good leg before grabbing the nearby banister and holding himself up.

He was still for a moment, reassuring himself that he could still stand, and then he cautiously let go of the banister and walked more carefully towards the kitchen. He couldn't help but favour his stronger leg, limping slightly, and Muriel was obviously not too confused to notice.

"Do be careful boy; you don't want to do yourself an injury."

"'S okay ," Ron said, stiffly, pulling down handfuls of potion bottles and measuring the doses into small glasses, "I'm being careful, keep still and I'll get you caught up on your potions."

"I can't take the thick one without food Ronald," Muriel called out, sounding a little drunk.

"I know but I can give you the rest and they'll liven you up enough to eat all right?"

"What is it we're having for dinner Ronald?" Muriel asked, only half following the conversation.

"I don't know, I'll sort something out in two secs, just lemme..."

"You've not prepared anything yet? Have you seen what time it is Ronald? Oh this really won't do." Muriel said with a tut.

"Just get these down you and we'll be all right," Ron said as she carried the selection of small glasses through and began tipping them past her lips one by one.

Muriel pulled a selection of revolted faces before wiping her mouth and smacking her lips.

"Don't forget my Milk Stout with dinner."

Ron paused as he hobbled away from the bed with the empty glasses in hand.

"I'm not sure if you should have alcohol tonight Muriel," he said, cringing in readiness for her reaction.

"Milk Stout isn't a tipple, it's medicinal, it's for my health!"

Ron took another step backwards and into the kitchen.

"Yeah but it's not prescribed is it? I don't think I should, not tonight."

As Ron turned to set the glasses down on the kitchen counter he took all the weight off his weak leg altogether and limped over to the bread bin.

"Sandwiches?" Muriel said as she watched him.

Ron couldn't cope with the sandwich argument again and tried to block her out as he opened cupboards in search of a filling.

"Ronald, don't," Muriel called as she waved a bony finger into the far corner of the room, "there are Muggle cans in that cubby beneath the sink, just open two of them and heat them through and we can have soup."

"Huh?" Ron frowned as he looked back at her.

"Heat the cans and bring spoons, I am not having you hobbling around, preparing me dinner, on that leg!"

"I doesn't hurt Muriel, I just had a twinge and now I'm being careful." Ron said as he made a point of standing properly.

"Ronald," Muriel said with the closest tone her voice could come to warmth, "you've had a very upsetting day and your sweetheart has left you. Don't hurt yourself trying to prove anything to me. Warm the soup and we'll eat from the cans, come on."

With that Muriel patted the bed where Ron had spent the afternoon sleeping. He blinked at her and gave an involuntary laugh.

"You want to eat soup from a can? _You?_"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Muriel asked, affronted.

"You, Muriel, are telling me you want to eat soup directly from the can?" Ron clarified, eyes wide.

"I would like to have soup with my nephew in the living room, yes. I would prefer my nephew not to be crippling himself attempting to make me a sandwich. I also think that if I win my nephew over he might concede to allow me my Milk Stout."

Ron grinned.

"Ah blackmail, now _that_ I can cope with, soup it is!"

Muriel looked very pleased with herself while Ron levitated two cans up from beneath the sink to save himself from having to bend down. As he flicked his wand, to slice the tops off the cans and set about casting a heating charm on them, he looked back at Muriel.

"What is it boy?" Muriel asked on seeing his frown.

"They haven't left me, they're just delayed."

Muriel looked down at the hamper of assorted chocolate, her lips tight.

"Both of them delayed at the same time for around the same duration," she said with great scepticism, "that is either exceptionally _convenient_ or extraordinarily unlucky."

Ron looked down at the steaming hot soup.

"Don't ruin it Muriel," he said, subdued.

"You told me when I had upset you," Muriel said, boldly, "why on earth are those two exempt?"

"They sometimes have to leave me behind," Ron said, drawing upon the parting words that he sometimes felt he had imagined all those months ago, "but we're not letting that come between us."


	7. Part 7

**Leaving (part 7)**

It had been a week since Ron had got the news that Harry and Hermione weren't coming back yet and since then he'd not stopped working.

George had offered to sit with Muriel one night after work but Ron had turned him down and hadn't even taken an hour off in the afternoon to phone the Milk man for a chat. Instead he'd thrown himself into taking care of Muriel and keeping the house clean and tidy.

As the weekend approached Ron had crossed a lot of things off his 'to-do' list. Muriel had a cooked breakfast and then been taken upstairs to the bathroom to sit in a hot bubble bath and soak. Ron opened all the windows downstairs to air out the stale air and enchant some dusters to dust everything down without the chilly and dusty air aggravating Muriel's condition.

When Muriel called that the water was becoming tepid Ron had bounded up the stairs and lifted her out, trying to preserve Muriel's modesty as best he could, before wrapping her in soft, warm towels and carrying her back downstairs to the living room.

"Be careful Ronald," Muriel continually fussed as they descended.

"Will you stop fretting? I'm not going to drop you and even if I did you'd land on me and not the stairs," Ron said, straining under the added weight of the damp towels, "and besides, you're always telling me I'm too soft so that should make for a comfy landing eh?"

Ron managed to grin at Muriel who chuckled and they made it to the bottom of the stairs and all the way to the side of the bed. As Ron bent his knees to lower her down there was a grinding noise and Ron winced while Muriel cringed and looked slightly revolted.

"Oh that wasn't you was it boy?" she said, shoulders hunched and eyes half closed, cowering at the sound of her nephew's painful joint.

"Just like cracking knuckles Muriel," Ron said as he stood up and shook his leg out to loosen it up, "doesn't hurt, see?"

"Well it's still unpleasant," Muriel said with a tightly twisted expression on her face.

Ron waved her disapproval away before pointing to the neatly folded pile of clothes on her bed.

"I thought you might be sick of being in your nightie and dressing gown all the time so I laid out some of your proper clothes," he said as he averted his eyes and held out his arm for her to drape the wet towels over as she dressed, "There's a blouse and a cardie, a shawl in case the cardigan wasn't warm enough, and a half slip and a thick pleated skirt. I know they probably don't go together as an outfit but I was thinking of you being cold more than an-"

"That's lovely Ronald, thank you."

Ron relaxed a little at that and looked towards the kitchen where he had a stew on the stove, simmering away in readiness for lunch, and then began thinking up more jobs for himself after feeding Muriel and doing the washing up.

"So you can have a nap after lunchtime potions if ya like, or I'll stick on the wireless, and I'll clear up in the kitchen and hang the washing out to dry. Maybe, while I'm out there, I can de-gnome your flower beds for you. I know the shabby state of the beds have been annoying you..."

"Ronald?" Muriel said as she draped a towel over his arm.

"Do you have a lawn mower I can enchant to cut the grass?" Ron said as he gazed out the back window, distractedly, "'cause if you do I'll get that done before I hang anything on the line otherwise you'll get grass clippings spattered all over stuff."

"Ronald," Muriel spoke with more assertion the second time around.

"Sorry, I'll get the lunch out of the way first and th-"

"Ronald, stop it!" She snapped at him, briskly.

"What?" he blinked.

"At what point today are you planning on sitting down?"

"We'll sit and play cards tonight if you want," Ron said with an indulgent nod.

"I wasn't asking for more of your time for me you stupid boy," Muriel huffed, "I was asking you when you were planning on stopping?"

"Well, um..."

"Because you haven't stopped, you know. Not all week. You won't even sit still and let your meals settle."

"Things need to be done," Ron shrugged.

"Have you heard from them?" Muriel asked, shrewdly blunt as always.

"Who?" Ron said, knowing full well who his aunt was referring to.

"Did they just tell you they weren't coming back and then not another word or have they had any further correspondence since then? Maybe they told you something that upset you so much you have decided to work yourself like a House Elf!"

"I've heard nothing, ok?" Ron yelled as he rose from the bed, "They're probably too busy and being busy seems to make it easier to get along without me so why shouldn't I give it a go too?"

Muriel looked angry and pained.

"Have you written to them and told them how unhappy you are?"

"What, I'm supposed to complain to them about making stew for an old lady in her safe, cosy house while they're in the Artic or in Africa and risking life and limb doing dangerous jobs? I don't have much dignity left Muriel but I'd like to hold on to the last smidgen if that's ok with you."

"They should know! If they were worth their salt they'd want to know and they wouldn't judge you as harshly as you judge yourself."

"You really want to talk about misjudging people Muriel?" Ron said, harshly.

Muriel flapped her jaw like a grounded fish and Ron took the opportunity to gather up the wet towels and leave the room.

* * *

_Hi,_

_Hope all's well and that the climate isn't getting you down. Things are pretty busy here but I can't complain. _

_I miss you and can't wait for you to come back home._

_Don't worry about sending me sweets or stuff, I'll only get fat (I don't do enough to burn it all off after all), and just get your job done and get back safe and sound._

_As long as you want to of course._

_I haven't been guilting you into coming back when you really want to be out in the world doing important stuff have I? Because I don't want you to come back because you think I'm complaining._

_I'm doing really well and I can wait. _

_Don't worry yourself about getting back. You know I'm never going anywhere don't you? I'll always be here._

_So that was it really, just a quick word to say don't worry about me and look after yourself._

_Ron_

* * *

It was almost midnight when the room filled with white light and Ron flung himself upright in his bed and grabbed his wand from the bedside table to aim wildly in every direction. Soon he saw the two shapes in the darkened bedroom and choked back an exclamation.

The silver stag and otter stood before him. The otter was gliding around between the legs of the stag before settling between the two at the front and rising up on its hind legs to look at Ron on his bed.

Ron swallowed and waited for one of the animals to open its mouth and speak but they stayed, standing before him, still and silent. He almost smiled, somehow knowing what his two friends had conspired between the two of them for the night, and shifted into the centre of the bed as he laid back down beneath the covers.

The stag was the first to move, stepping forward and up onto the bed, to settle at Ron's back and rest its chin upon his shoulder. Ron let out a deep sigh and relaxed into his bed just as the otter appeared over the edge of the mattress and moved in circles before Ron's chest before settling down against him and sending soothing vibrations through his ribcage.

Ron closed his eyes and crushed his face into the pillow, feeling the two positive spirits on either side of him, and was instantly descending into a deep sleep.

* * *

"I said I wanted coffee boy, coffee!" Muriel snapped as she batted the cup of tea away and splashed the hot liquid over Ron's hand.

He hissed and blew on his hand before looking down at Muriel with concern.

"You don't like coffee Muriel."

"Don't tell me what I do and do not like you nasty little scallywag, coffee, _now!_"

Ron backed away from her and into the kitchen. He set the cup and saucer down and grabbed a handful of Floo powder, ready to throw it into the small fireplace in the kitchen and call for the Healers to come and check her out, when Muriel's voice sounded again.

"Typical bloody Prewitt," Muriel muttered, "self, self, self and no time for anybody else. Blood is thicker than water, you know!"

"Muriel?" Ron frowned as he leaned back to peer into the living room, "Did you have your potions? I gave them all to you, did you take them all?"

"How dare you speak to me like that you swine!" Muriel bellowed, "Go and play with the others and leave me be with my own kin."

"I'm your kin Muriel, do you remember?"

"Of course I remember, Ronald what _is_ wrong with you today?" Muriel frowned and huffed, "Are you coming down with a fever?"

"No I...I'm...I'm just getting your coffee Muriel. I'll be with you in a minute okay?"

"Coffee?" Muriel exclaimed with disgust, "When have I ever drunk coffee? _Tea_ boy, I want my tea!"

Ron stepped back and out of sight to hold his head in both hands, close his eyes, and try to work out if it was him or her who was going crazy.

* * *

There were now three times as many potions to give to Muriel as there had been when Ron first began taking care of her. His daily anxiety attack over the possibility of giving her a fatal overdose had made him physically ill and there had been a couple of days when Percy had come to the house during his lunch break to demand Ron down a chalky tasting liquid along with his deliberately bland lunch.

George had advertised, interviewed and even hired a retired nurse to take care of Muriel but the woman was still in command of her faculties enough to refuse the nurse's caretaking and dismiss her of her duties. Ginny was ready to blow, Harry and Hermione were still away, and their mother couldn't spend enough time at Muriel's house to give Ron and his nerves a long enough rest.

Muriel was completely immobile now and Ron had to actually hold her upright to give her food and drink. Sometimes she was a slower, more slurred version of herself and others she was completely disorientated and had no clue who Ron was or why he was there.

On this particular afternoon she was in good spirits and reading her post for the day.

"Ronald, are you growing a beard or are you just lazy?" Muriel asked as she scrutinised Ron's face when he passed by, tying a note to Pig's foot and sending him off on a delivery through the open window.

"I just shaved." Ron chuckled.

"Really? You know, somebody as fair as you shouldn't have problems with five o'clock shadow."

Ron looked at himself in the mirror and rubbed at his chin.

"Are you sure your eyes are all right Muriel? I'm smooth as anything."

"Are you now? Oh well maybe your freckles are merging together along the beard line."

Ron spun on the spot and looked in the mirror even closer.

"No they're _not_!"

Muriel chortled and Ron huffed and rolled his eyes.

"Very funny," he said before heading back to the kitchen to wash his hands.

Muriel looked back down at the card that had arrived through the post. Two of her acquaintances had announced their engagement and invited her to the wedding ceremony. Muriel had been vocally cynical ever since.

"I'm not sure what to write. Hmmm... how about 'Wishing you happiness and a long marriage,' now wait, he's 90... They have a lot of nerve, you know?"

"I think it should be banned!" Ron said, meaning every word.

"I agree, it does cheapen the whole death 'till you part side of things doesn't it? You may as well make an oath to be loyal until next Thursday."

Ron and Muriel laughed, enjoying their bonding over a joint scepticism of other people's romance.

"The mature shouldn't act like the young," Muriel mused, "especially when the young are acting like rabbits, out of one hole and straight down another!"

Ron snorted his pumpkin juice all over his t shirt and choked on his sputtering laughter.

"I don't have to see that oaf of a Healer again today do I Ronald?" Muriel called through to him.

"Huh? Oh, no, not today."

"Good, the man's a bloody idiot. Do you know what he asked me the other day?"

Ron shook his head.

"He asked me in what way my condition affected my mind and I told him that I forget things and the absolute dolt asked me for an example of something I'd forgotten!"

Ron sniggered.

"Well you knew what he meant."

"All I know is that he's a bloody moron," Muriel grumbled, "how do these people get important jobs like that in the first place?"

Ron walked towards the bed to pick up Muriel's wedding invitation and set it upon the mantelpiece when he came to a sudden stop and changed direction to go back and fetch his drink.

As his body turned his foot stayed planted firm and his knee made a terrible grinding sound just as the joint slid around like ice on oil and twisted beneath him. He made the smallest of yelps and slammed onto the floor with a dull thud. Both his hands were clutching his twisted knee as if it would fall apart if he didn't and his eyes were forced tightly shut, refusing to look down at his leg, while he took short but deep breaths.

"Ronald!" Muriel called down to him, "Ronald, are you hurt?"

Still Ron lay twisted on the floor, clutching his knee with his hands and pushing his leg into his body, and tried to breathe through the shock.

"Ronald, say something!"

He just about managed to swear through an exhalation and forced his eyes open to look at his knee.

"Do you need help boy? I can send a Patronus message, where's my wand?" Muriel was fussing and shuffling around on her bed but her wand was out of reach.

"Oh shit...oh shit...oh shit it's facing the wrong way!" Ron began to hyperventilate, "My fucking foot's facing the wrong way!"

Ron forced his eyes closed again and turned his face into the rug, teeth gritted and suppressing an anguished growl of frustration and discomfort.

"Your elf, call for your elf!" Muriel urged him in her panic.

"Kreacher!" Ron whimpered into the rug.

There was a pop and Kreacher was there at his side.

"Master Weasley! You have fallen? You are hurt? Let Kreacher f-"

"Get Mum," Ron said as he turned his head to look at the elf with pleading eyes.

"No, fetch some Healers for him, he can't move," Muriel ordered.

Kreacher looked torn between the two instructions and worried his hands as he implored with Ron to agree with Muriel's command.

"I want my Mum," Ron said, voice disintegrating into a sob.

With that Kreacher was gone. Muriel was moving on her bed but Ron just swallowed down his whimpers and went back to breathing deeply.

"It'll be alright boy, the elf will be back soon with Molly and then we'll send for the Healers," Muriel said as she grunted and puffed, mattress springs creaking, "you lie still and keep calm. There's a good boy."

"I wasn't even doing anything," Ron said with a shaky, high-pitched voice, "I was just walking. I've been carrying you around and cleaning and washing and it was fine and then...I was just walking!"

"It wasn't your fault, I saw it happen, it wasn't you."

Muriel sounded very tired and Ron frowned and lifted his head to look up at her on the bed but she wasn't lying back against her pillow like she was supposed to be. She was lowering herself down to the floor from the side of the bed, arms shaking and face pale.

"What are you doing?" Ron gasped, eyes wide but unable to even throw out an arm to warn her back, "You're gonna fall, stop it!"

"I'm out now dear, may as well settle down comfortably," Muriel panted before landing with a soft bump on her backside.

"You shouldn't be out of bed, what did you do that for?" Ron said as he tried to shift his weight before gasping and clenching everything with a frustrated growl.

"Don't try to move Ronald," Muriel instructed.

"You stop it too!" Ron barked back.

There was a pop and a crack as Kreacher and Ron's mother arrived in the room. Kreacher exclaimed as he saw Muriel on the floor too and said something about bringing more Healers before disappearing again.

"Ronnie! Oh my poor b-"

"Mum, Muriel needs to be put back in bed," Ron said, shakily.

"Leave me be Molly, the boy was calling for you, you comfort him and the elf will see to me when he returns." Muriel argued.

"I was panicking, I'm all right now, Mum help Muriel."

The fireplace blazed green and Healers began pouring out into the living room.

"They're here now Ronnie, the Healers will see to things for both of you now," his mother said as she stroked his hair, tenderly.

While the Healers made a lot of noise and fuss Ron just focused on remaining curled up into his twisted little ball. As soon as one of the Healers tried to pry his hands away from his knee Ron erupted with a ferocious roar.

"_Don't touch me!"_

"Ronnie!"

"Mr Weasley, please, we must see your knee in order to fix it," one of the Healers implored.

"I can't let it go," Ron said, shaking his head determinately, "it'll twist up even more, I can't let it go."

"I assure you, your leg will not get any worse when you release it, please..." Another Healer tried to pull Ron's hands away.

"_I said don't fucking touch me!"_ Ron snarled like a wounded animal, cornered by predators, "I'll...I'll let go, just let me do it...gimme a minute and I'll do it."

"That's all right Ronnie," his mother was saying as she rubbed her hand up and down his back, "as soon as you let go you take my hand, I'll be right here with you and it'll be fixed in a jiffy."

"I just need a sec," Ron said through unsteady breaths.

"Unhand me and take care of my nephew you clumsy dolts!" Muriel was yelling.

"Don't levitate her, she doesn't like it!" Ron suddenly shouted at the Healers gathered around Muriel.

"They aren't, they know Ronnie, it's all fine," his mother said, soothingly.

"Ok," Ron nodded, more to himself than anyone else, "ok...ok I'm ready."

"Right, let go of your knee and take hold of your mother's hands whenever you're ready for us."

Ron looked up at his mother's tearful smiling face, then over to the bed where Muriel was getting settled again.

"Chin up Ronald," Muriel called, "show them that beard you're trying to grow."

Ron gave a nervous laugh and took a deep breath before letting go of his knee and grabbing at his mother's skirt with tight fists.

"Do it!"


	8. Part 8

_A/N The whole knee injury thing happened to me for real and while waiting for the ambulance to arrive my Mum had an asthma attack and I spent my time on the floor shouting at her to calm down! Also the character of Muriel here is very strongly influenced by Liz Smith's 'Nana' in the series The Royale Family so credit where credit's due._

**Leaving (part 8)**

"Oh Ron..." Ginny said, her face had been glowing with maternal delight before she had looked up to see her brother clomping into the maternity ward of St Mungo's on his crutches.

"Don't," Ron said warningly, "whatever you do, don't. Let me see this thing you've spawned and make googly noises at it."

Ginny bit her bottom lip and then angled the little pink bundle in her arms towards Ron. Ron made his way over to his sister's bedside and dropped himself into a chair. He leaned forward as he set his crutches against the wall and pulled a distasteful face as he looked down at the newest member of the Weasley family.

"It looks like a Pigmy Puff with all it's fluff ripped out!"

"Ron!" Ginny said as she glared at him, "He's a he, not an it, and he's beautiful!"

"If you say so," Ron winced, "what's he called?"

"Harold Frederick Weasley," Ginny beamed.

Ron's face fell into an expressionless mask.

"You didn't?"

"What's wrong, the initials don't spell anything rude," Ginny smiled, innocently.

"The initials? What about the name?" Ron exclaimed, "You can't name your baby Harry!"

"I didn't, he's called Harold," Ginny shrugged.

"You named your baby Harry and you know it!" Ron said, angrily, "Harry Fred Weasley. That's sick _and_ distasteful."

"That's my son's name and you don't have to like it," Ginny hissed.

"But...But you can't! Ginny you _can't_! Who names their child after an ex boyfriend? People will think its his."

Ginny smirked and stroked her little boy's downy hair.

"Oh you are about as funny as...as funny as..."

"Your leg?" Ginny said, pointedly.

Ron's face flushed and he slumped back in his chair with a 'hmph', folding his arms across his chest and sulking.

"Seriously Ron," Ginny said, smile fading, "you're miserable, you're tired and now you're hurt. Talk to me."

"My knee's buggered and they can't fix it, nothing's changed," Ron mumbled into his chest.

"Something has changed Ron," Ginny said as she swivelled on the bed and set her new son down in the cot beside her, "you never used to walk on crutches before."

"It's not permanent," Ron said as he cast a sideways scowl at the wooden crutches, "the Healers are gonna work out some way of strapping up my knee to keep the kneecap from slipping sideways and until then they want me to go easy on it."

"Can't they find a spell to strengthen it or fix it for you?"

"If they could they'd have done it before wouldn't they?" Ron said with a tut, "Ginny we've been over this, remember?"

"But there's got to be something more efficient than Muggle crutches," Ginny said as she reached forward and took Ron's hand.

"Magic can't fix everything can it?" Ron shrugged and squeezed her hand in return, "If it could then Harry wouldn't need glasses, George would have two ears, Dad wouldn't be bald and Bill would look like Bill again."

The silence hung heavily in the air between them until Ginny found something to say.

"His name's Bobby."

Ron nodded.

"'s nice."

"I thought so."

They sat together for a while before Ron glanced at the clock on the wall and pulled his hand away from his sister's to reached for his crutches.

"It's time for Muriel's potions, I'd better go."

"I thought Mum was there today?" Ginny frowned.

"It doesn't matter who's there, she'll only do as she's told if I tell her. She only eats what I make and she won't take any potions unless I give them to her."

"That's not fair, Ron," Ginny said as she sat up in her bed, "you can't take care of her any more, not after this."

"Says who?" Ron said, defensively, as he positioned the pads of his crutches under his armpits.

"Ron, come on, you can't carry her around any more. You could barely manage before."

"If I'm not looking after Muriel then what am I doing with my life?" Ron said bitterly, "She wants me to keep taking care of her and I want somebody to bloody well want me around."

Ginny looked upset at this statement and grabbed at his sleeve as he set off for the door.

"Don't say that, you know you have twice as much as everyone else, they can't help that they are stuck out there."

"Pulling at the arm of a man on crutches isn't really helpful Gin," Ron mumbled before yanking his sleeve free and grunting as he pushed himself off on the crutches.

"Ron, wait, you didn't even hold Bobby!"

"Come on Ginny," Ron snorted, bitterly, "you seriously want to entrust your firstborn to a bloke who can't even walk properly? I think I'll stick with the old woman. At least if I kill her she was on her way out anyway."

* * *

Getting around on crutches had done nothing to dampen Ron's volatile temper. 

As one of the wooden props clattered to the kitchen floor and Muriel roared at his mother to get out of her house and stop interfering where she wasn't wanted, Ron leaned heavily on his remaining crutch and gripped the kitchen counter to steady himself.

"See Ronnie, this is what I mean, you can't cope like this. She has to go into the special ward."

"I'd cope bloody brilliantly if you got the hell out of my way!" Ron yelled at his fussing mother as she stooped to pick up the fallen crutch.

"Ronald Weasley!" She gasped.

"Every time I turn around you're there. Every time I try to move from one spot to the other, you're in the way," Ron growled at his shocked mother, "Having you here is the bloody obstacle, not _these!_"

Ron waved the crutch she had handed him between them before wriggling it under his arm and letting the two crutches take his weight equally again.

"Go back to your harlot daughter and her bastard child and leave the boy be Molly!" Muriel called through from her bed in the living room.

"What have I told you about talk like that?" Ron snapped, just as sharply as he'd been speaking to his mother, at Muriel.

"I'm sorry Ronald but she'll have you off those things with her big behind and back in that hospital in no time if she doesn't go away," Muriel said, chest puffing out and lips pulled tight.

"Muriel, I'm warning you..." the flushed witch huffed as her cheeks reddened.

"Ginny's coming home from St Mungo's with the spawn tonight and I need space to sort out the dinner and Muriel's potions so please Mum, _please_ just go," Ron begged his mother, tensely.

"Your nephew is not spawn and I will make you both a stew or a hotpot and then pour out Muriel's potions, just sit down and take the weight off yo-"

"I don't want her cooking Ronald, it's like scraps from the bin stirred together in washing up water!" Muriel called out.

Ron swung one of his crutches forward and shoved it against the door, slamming it shut and closing Muriel out of the conversation.

"She won't eat anything you make, she won't take potions if you've poured them and you are driving me insane. Please go home Mum, I'm begging you."

"Get Kreacher to do it," the startled woman said as he eyes filled with tears and she clutched at the front of her baby boy's jumper in desperation, "sit down in here with the door closed and she won't know any different. Have him do it for you and just rest your leg."

"I rested it in the hospital," Ron said, shoulders tense and voice edgy, "the Healers said if I give in and stop using it I'll end up never being able to use it properly and my limp will be permanent."

"They also said to stop pushing yourself beyond what a fully fit person would be able to manage," his mother sniffed.

"Cooking dinner Mum, all I'm going to do is bake two big spuds in the oven, sling some cheese over them and make a pot of tea for the both of us. Leave me to it will you?"

"But the times she needs to be carried, she w-"

"Mum," Ron's voice softened, "you've got a new grandson, go home and fuss over him. He really is a helpless child. Just let me feel like a man for one second?"

She blubbed and then cupped his cheek with her hand. She smiled and tears squeezed out and down her cheeks. Looking away from his face her eyes fell upon the crutches and she seemed to cringe at the sight of them.

"Are you comfortable at least?"

Ron leaned forward and kissed her on the salt-streaked cheek before nodding.

"They know what happened," she said, "George got word to them and they spoke to your father on the Floo, they're working extra night shifts so they can get back sooner. Please give them somebody they recognise to come home to?"

* * *

It had been an odd progression. 

From utter contempt to respect via raised voices and threats, to genuine affection and concern – Muriel and Ron had a strange relationship. She had taken to sleeping on her 'side' of the bed and insisting on Ron laying on his. They would listen to the news and then the evening comedy and finally the late night drama on the Wizarding Wireless Network before Ron gave her the last dose of potion for the day and struggled up the stairs on his crutches to bed.

Muriel hadn't understood why he wouldn't sleep downstairs on his side of the bed, to spare him the gruelling effort of his ascent, and Ron couldn't let her know that he was always hoping for a couple of Patronus' to show up in his room and lie with him until he fell asleep. He also thought he might be coming down with something and didn't want to make her ill.

"I need to go to the lavatory, Ronald," Muriel said, fidgeting into a sitting position.

"Oh," Ron said as he felt around for his crutches, "well I'm gonna have to fetch a bedpan for you I'm afraid."

"No you won't," Muriel said as she stilled him by putting a hand onto his chest and pushing him back into his reclining position, "you have your wand, you can use a levitation charm."

Ron was silent for a moment, unable to believe he'd heard correctly, and blinked at his Aunt incomprehensively.

"But...you don't like being floated on and off the lav."

"I don't, it lacks dignity and involves an extraordinary degree of trust in the person floating you," Muriel said as she straightened her nightie and kicked back the covers, "so chop chop Ronald, I can't hold it in forever."

Ron managed the manoeuvre there and back smoothly and helped Muriel get tucked back in snugly before sliding to the edge of the bed and wedging the padded cushions of the crutches under his arms. He made a strained grunting sound as he pushed himself up from the bed and thumped his way towards the kitchen to pour out the potions for Muriel before heading up to bed.

_Klomp_

He swung his weary body forward, lifted the crutches and planted them ahead of him a little way.

_Klomp_

The wood creaked as it supported his weight. He swivelled his hips to navigate his way around the foot of the bed and onwards towards the kitchen.

_Klomp_

This time he noticed he was making an audible puffing noise every time he pulled his body forward on the wooden supports and gritted his teeth as he angled himself towards the door and moved onwards.

_Klomp_

He held in the sound of his effort and made it through the door without banging his elbows. He took a moment to catch the breath he hadn't realised was getting away from him, and re-adjusted his grip on the horizontal struts before taking the last assisted step to the kitchen counter.

_Klomp_

"Oof!"

He slammed into the side of the countertop and winded himself slightly. He paused to compose himself and then started pouring out the correct doses of potion.

"Ronald, do stay down here tonight," Muriel called through from the living room, "it's been a long enough day without you giving yourself a mountain to climb at the end of it. You've been on your foot all day and you can barely keep your head up."

"Muriel, I asked Mum to leave for fussing too much and don't think you won't get the same treatment."

The old woman laughed at this and Ron let himself lean on the counter while he gently sent the potions Muriel's way with a flick of his wand.

"You are a stubborn one aren't you?" Muriel sighed as she lifted the glasses of potion and downed them, one by one.

Ron swirled his wand to bring the empty glasses back and then stood up straight again and fidgeted until his crutches felt comfortable.

"You're one to talk," he snorted in response to Muriel's statement, which he'd taken as a complement, "and as much as I love you I do want my own bed all to myself thank you very much."

Muriel was staring at him and looking strangely moved.

"What? Did I get the potions wrong? Do you feel queasy?"

"No, I...um," Muriel shook her head to come back to herself, "Goodnight Ronald, do be careful on those stairs and...sleep well."

Ron frowned at her before giving her a confused smile. He swept his wand across the room and all the lamps died out. There was only one remaining lit, the one at the bottom of the stairs, and with a grunt he set off towards it.

_Klomp_

_Klomp_

_Klomp_

"Night Muriel," he said as he reached the first step.

"Goodnight my dear boy and thank you."

Ron braced himself for the exertion and then lifted his crutches up onto the first step. He pulled himself up with his scrawny arms and landed heavily with both feet.

He knew a levitation charm would be easier but there was something in him that was similar to Muriel and he would only take that option as a last resort. After all, witches and wizards never had to walk or even stand up if they didn't want to, and yet they did. It was ridiculous and lazy to float yourself around the place. It was as foolish as Flooing to your neighbours house or Apparating from one room to the other under the same roof.

_Klomp_

He lifted his crutches onto the second step and banged them down on the chintzy carpet. He took a deep breath and hauled himself up. He decided to go for a 'volley' of sorts and take as many steps as he could without a pause, just for the sake of getting the climb over with.

_Klomp_

Step three, wood groaning along with Ron as it took his weight while he heaved his body up and set his feet down.

_Klomp_

The fourth step and Ron grunted and thrust himself up and was carried forward with his own momentum. He quickly lifted the crutches again and planted them heavily onto the next step.

_Klomp_

Step five and Ron's attack on the stairs was going faster than he could have hoped. The pads of the crutches dug into his armpits, due to him slamming down so hard when he'd been forced to go for the next step in such quick succession to keep his balance, and as he tried to pull himself up he winced and cried out with the strain of dragging himself up so uncomfortably.

His run of quick steps was over. He had to stop to adjust his crutches and catch his breath. The worst thing was that he knew Muriel was listening intently, wand in her hand ready to catch him should he fall, and he wanted to prove to her that he could manage it. He wanted to prove he was strong enough. He could cope with this, he wasn't getting too run-down.

He took three deep breaths in and out, gripping his crutches tightly, and then strained to lift them onto the sixth step.

_Klomp_

Ron worked hard to lift himself onto the step, his leg feeling heavier and more of a hindrance to him than anything else, and felt his heart thumping against his chest while his breaths came short but heavy.

With a great deal of effort he lifted the crutches again and almost fell forward onto them as they landed, clumsily, on step seven. He could have sworn he heard Muriel make a small squeaking sound and that filled him with a short burst of adrenaline, his need to demonstrate his capability to her was overtaking his fatigue.

_Klomp_

Step eight and he powered through it, lifting and swinging himself up as if he was a little boy playing on the banisters, and he gave a laboured inhalation as he moved the crutches up for the ninth step.

_Klomp_

Sweat broke on his forehead and his muscles were beginning to ache. He strove to pull himself up but his arms were shaking slightly, not used to carrying so much weight for days at a time, and he gave himself a moment before having another go. He gripped the crutches, set his jaw, ignored the protests of his sore arms and leg and forced himself up onto the step.

His body sagged between the crutches, heavy as wet sandbags, and his jumper was stifling him. He wasn't in a position to remove it and had to endure the unpleasant sensation of perspiration trickling down his back. He had to take his weight on his good leg in order to move his crutches up to the tenth step but they wouldn't cooperate and it took all his will power to resist the temptation to throw aside the crutches and crawl up the stairs.

No, he had to do this; he had to make it up the stairs. He was young and strong and he wasn't going to have to depend on a caretaker before he was even twenty five. If he couldn't do this he may as well just give up altogether, he told himself.

Muriel was watching. Muriel was watching and he had to make it. She was the only one who had faith in him to manage on his own and he had to prove her right. He had to validate the confidence she had in him.

He gritted his teeth and planted his feet properly. He took his weight and lifted the crutches onto the tenth step.

_Klomp_

He heaved up his legs, as if they were a great burden pulling him back, and clambered up into the step. He paused to wipe his sopping wet brow with his sleeve and push back his damp hair.

"Just two more...just two more..." Ron panted as he tried to muster up some extra strength.

He strained to lift the crutches onto the penultimate step but didn't make it. He was exhausted and his muscles were screaming in protest, refusing to lift the crutches high enough to reach the step, and he wilted over the wooden props as they landed back on the tenth step.

_Klomp_

Slumped on the crutches, breathless and feeling pathetic, Ron contemplated the futility of trying again. Even if he made it there would be another step to go and he was all in. He had nothing more to give.

"Go on, Ronald," Muriel's soft voice called from all the way down the stairs, "your bed is waiting for you and I won't sleep unless I know you're settled."

"Jus' takin'..." Ron panted heavily, "takin' a breather. No need to worry. You just go to sleep."

That clinched it for him. Muriel wouldn't sleep, she would worry about him, when he fell she'd crawled out of bed to see to him and she wasn't well enough to be out of bed. He had to get to bed just to put Muriel at ease. He might not be able to do this for himself, for his own self respect, but he knew he could keep going for Muriel's sake.

Sustained by the thought that giving up wasn't an option, Ron took a deep breath and threw everything he had into lifting the crutches onto the next step. They landed on target.

_Klomp_

He pulled himself up with a deep grunt from within and held himself up with his strongest leg. By this time he hated his sweat drenched jumper with a vengeance and couldn't wait to get to his room and rip it off himself.

He gave a weary groan and prepared himself for the last big exertion. Gripping the crutches he threw all his energy into lifting them up onto the landing and struggled to drag his body up after them.

_KLOMP!_

Ron was at the top and looked at his bedroom door with heavily lidded eyes. He was knackered and hadn't factored in actually making his way down the landing to his room. He drooped sideways against the wall and was just about to slide down it and sleep on the floor when the soft silver light of a Patronus emanated from his bedroom.

Ron gave a tired smile and stayed on his feet. The large silver stag stepped out of the bedroom and approached him. The soulful eyes seemed to fill Ron up and the stag bowed its head and pushed its antlers under Ron's arms. Ron still had hold of his crutches with his limply hooked fingers and dragged them behind him as the stag backed into the bedroom, supporting Ron all the way.

Ron's feet dragged along the carpet and as he was pulled through the door he saw the silver otter waiting for him on his bed. His smile grew a little wider as his eyes fell closed, head lolling heavily, and the stag draped him onto his bed very gently.

He felt the otter rubbing against his cheek and the strength and gentleness of the stag all around him as he passed out on the bed.

The last thing he heard was a whisper from one of the Patronus'.

"I love you Ron. Not long now."


	9. Part 9

**Leaving 9**

Ron had been studying the instructions for almost an hour and was only getting more confused.

"Ronald, I don't like it, take it out."

Muriel was flustered and uncomfortable after the Healers had visited and added a magical colostomy bag to her set up around the bed. The bag drained into a charmed container that banished the urine but Muriel didn't approve of the tube coming out of her body.

"I said you were getting me on and off the lavatory perfectly well, why do they have to interfere?"

"Well you're hooked up to so many things now," Ron said as he accidentally set off her special breathing mask and sprayed mist into his face, "oh yuck!"

"Yes, that's what I've been telling you, I don't like it. I'd rather you took me outside for fresh air than have the charmed mist stuff. It tastes like all the worst Every Flavour Beans after a troll had chewed them for three days."

"Only three? You're not being harsh enough there Muriel," Ron said still trying to sputter the bad taste from his tongue.

Muriel let out a short chortle before looking down at her nightgown and plucking at it with bony finger and thumb and pulling a dissatisfied face.

"Ronald, this nightie is getting a bit mucky you know."

Ron had just picked up a mortar and pestle to begin grinding up a treatment for her bed sores and sighed, mentally adding another task to his long list for the day, and nodded.

"I'll do a load of washing after lunch. Take it off and I'll add it to the pile."

"Can you hand wash it rather than let it stew with the rest of the things? I don't want my delicates rubbing up against your gussets Ronald."

"Gussets?" Ron blurted, "Blimey Muriel you don't half know how to ruin a word for me for life!"

The old witch clicked her tongue and set about trying to undress but she couldn't lift her arms high enough, mobility becoming more and more of a problem as the days went on. Ron set down the heavy marble and picked up his crutches so he could move around her bed to her side and assist.

"I'm gonna close my eyes so make sure your boobs don't get in the way," he warned as he pulled the nightgown over her head, eyes closed and face turned away, "I don't want a handful of anything but cotton y'hear?"

Muriel's response was nothing but a murmur. Ron turned away and threw the balled up nightie into the washing basket and flicked his wand to summon a fresh one from upstairs.

"Throw 'em over your shoulders, out the way, or something."

Ron felt Muriel swatting his arm and smirked. He enjoyed getting a reaction out of her these days. As the new nightie flew into his waiting hand he closed his eyes again and turned back to Muriel to pull it over her head and help her get her stiff arms through the sleeves.

"Oh you're so heavy handed Ronald, you're not wrestling me you know?"

"Too right I'm not," Ron snorted as he cracked an eyelid open to check that his Auntie was decent, "you'd thrash me, hands down."

Muriel's eyes twinkled and Ron grinned before reaching to his side to grab the crutches again. He knocked them with his large, clumsy hands and they clattered to the floor.

"Oh shit," Ron hissed under his breath before leaning over to pick them up again.

"I told your mother to come for the afternoon," Muriel said as she pulled at Ron's t-shirt, "did I tell you? I did tell you didn't I, Ronald?"

"Yeah, she's coming at half one, remember? It's still only a quarter past twelve." Ron smiled, eyes reflecting the temporarily bemused expression on Muriel's face.

"Half past one, yes, I know, we agreed it yesterday. Have you sent an owl to your friend to tell him that's when you'll be free?"

"No Muriel, he's a Muggle remember? He doesn't know about magic and he doesn't know I'm a wizard. I'll have to go into the village and phone him from the Muggle box."

Ron positioned his crutches carefully and then pushed up from the sagging bedsprings with a grunt.

"I have to finish pounding that gunk for your sores and then I'll make an omelette for you to take with your tea and potions and by the time Mum gets here I'll have got all the washing into the tub and agitating itself."

"Don't do too much boy," Muriel said, waggling her finger as he went back to his seat.

"I'm not, I just don't want to leave her with jobs to do, I don't want her to think I'm getting behind because of these," Ron nodded down to the crutches.

"I've told her you are managing wonderfully, Ronald," Muriel said as she straightened her nightgown and pulled the covers over herself once more.

Ron smiled to himself as he sat down again and picked up the mortar and pestle and continued with the grinding.

"There's parchment over there for when you are ready to write," Muriel waved her hand idly at a bookshelf and Ron frowned.

"Eh?"

"Your friend, you have to tell him you're meeting him today," Muriel said with a tut, "and where _is_ your mother?"

"Not till half past one...remember, Muriel?" Ron said, sadly.

"Is it half past one already? Your mother should be here, you have to meet your Muggle friend, where on earth is she?" Muriel fidgeted and looked around, disgruntled that her niece was running late and scuppering Ron's plans.

Ron put the mortar and pestle down again and stood up on his crutches.

"Muriel how about one of your un-fogging potions now eh? With a toasted teacake?"

"Boy, sit down!" Muriel, snapped, "For the last time Molly I told you he's too frail for the stairs, he's staying down here with me!"

Muriel was calling through to the empty kitchen now and Ron swallowed and took a tentative step forward, propped up by his wooden aides.

"Mum's not here yet, she's not in there, Muriel."

"No, silly boy," Muriel said with an indulgent smile, "I forgot to tell you, I asked your mother to come for an hour or two so you could get out of the house and see your friend. Won't that be nice?"

Ron looked at his great Aunt for a moment before smiling and nodding.

"I'll just see what's keeping her."

He turned on his crutches and thudded softly through the living room and into the kitchen, disappearing from view to lean back against the wall and throw his head back, eyes closed.

"I need a fucking drink."

* * *

The Milk man was sitting on the steps outside their usual meeting place when Ron came, galumphing along the street on his crutches, grinning at his friend and apologising for being late. 

"I forgot how many steps there were between the Floo...the...flower shop by the station and here!"

"What the hell happened to you?" Milk man demanded, jumping up and rushing to his side to help him sit down on the hard steps, "Is this why you didn't phone for so long?"

Ron nodded as he got comfortable on the stone step and laid his crutches beside him with care.

"I had a bit of an accident and this has been my first chance to get out and about again," he shrugged, "I'd have phoned and let you know only..."

"You don't have a phone," Milk man groaned, "Right, that's it, I'm bloody well buying you one."

"What? No!" Ron said, sitting bolt upright and eyes bulging, "I wasn't saying it so you'd do that."

"I know you weren't, but everybody needs a mobile these days and if you're in London, on your own and on crutches, then you definitely need one for emergencies sake."

"Well I'll get one, I'll pay for it, don't you..."

"I have a spare that I don't use," he smiled, putting his hand on Ron's shoulder, "I got a free upgrade and still have my old one. It's just laying around doing nothing. All we have to do is shove a pay as you go chip in there and stick a tenner on it. You'll be sorted then won't you?"

Ron blinked.

"I don't understand a word of what you just said," he said blankly.

Milk man laughed and soon Ron was chuckling with him.

"So, do you wanna go inside?" Milk man asked as he nodded backwards towards the grubby Bed and Breakfast.

Ron looked over his shoulder and sighed.

"By the time I get up the stairs to the room I'll have to turn around and come back down again."

"No you won't, I'll carry you."

"You bloody won't!" Ron said, quickly.

Milk man rolled his eyes and shook his head with amused resignation.

"So what's happened to your Auntie now that you've gone all Tiny Tim on her?"

"She's still at home, being accidentally rude in between being deliberately rude...forgetting a lot of stuff now though, keeps talking in circles y'know? She'll say something and then five minutes later she'll say it again."

"But, you're obviously not lugging her on and off the bog still are you?" Milk man frowned.

"Oh, no she's got this," Ron waved his finger in a gesture to demonstrate the tubing coming from Muriel's body and into the bag, "_thing_ so she doesn't have to get up. She can't get up at all any more. Mum's giving her a bed bath while I'm out."

"Lucky her."

"I don't know if she'll see it that way," Ron snorted.

"Seriously though Ron, how can you still take care of her on your own after this?" Milk man gestured to Ron's crutches.

"Oh don't you start," Ron growled, "not you, of all people."

"Whoa, sorry!" he said, raising his hands and leaning away from Ron's temper.

"I'm sorry but I've had enough of people telling me how helpless I am."

The Milk man put his arm around Ron and squeezed his opposite shoulder gently.

"Talk, go on, I'm listening."

Ron slumped into the Milk man's side and picked at a loose thread in his jeans as he spoke.

"They wanted to take her away, Muriel I mean, everybody told me I couldn't manage anymore and she wanted me to stand up to them so I did."

"So," the Milk man began, sounding cautious about bringing up the subject, "your Aunt is much worse, everybody in your family and all the doctors are staging interventions around you, you had a really bad accident and hurt yourself...and you're still alone, right?"

Ron's head dropped and he swallowed.

"Couldn't come home yet, got reassigned for another month."

"Before or after you got hurt?"

"Look, don't ok? I know what y-"

"Before or after you got hurt, Ron?"

Ron pressed his lips together and didn't say a word.

"They didn't come back and you worked yourself so hard you hurt yourself and now you're doing the same amount of work you couldn't handle...only on crutches?"

"It's not like that," Ron croaked.

"They still didn't come back, not after they heard you were hurt?"

"They're working extra night shifts to get back to me sooner!"

"Were you in hospital?" Milk man demanded.

Ron nodded and shifted, awkward under such a scrutinous gaze and probing questions, but the Milk man pulled him into the side of his body and wrapped his other arm around the front of him.

"So the reason I can't throw you over my shoulder and take you up to one of the grotty rooms back there, snog you senseless and ravish you until you have to go home again..._didn't even come back _when they heard you were in the hospital?"

"They've been...they have been...I've felt them...they were around in their way when I needed them most," Ron struggled to explain without betraying magical secrets to the Milk man.

"You don't even have a phone! How could anybody be there for you when you need them?"

The Milk man let Ron go and dragged his hands over his hair, growling in frustration, and Ron grabbed his crutches and grappled with them until he had them in position and attempted to push himself up from the low step. Milk man sprang to his feet and grabbed Ron as he overbalanced and fell into his chest.

"Sorry, I got it, m'fine now," Ron said, flustered and in desperate need to get back to the magical world where he didn't have to cover his tracks, "I'm gonna go."

"_No_, you always run away from me and yeah, I thought it was avoiding temptation because you were in love and you're not the sort of bloke who cheats on your other half, but for fuck's sake Ron – You don't have another half! They left you!"

"You don't get it," Ron said as he supported his own weight on the crutches and backed away from the Milk man to put some space between them.

"I'll never get it," Milk man yelled, "I'll never get how somebody can love you and leave you alone like this."

"No, you'll never know!" Ron snapped back, "and there's a reason for that and his name is Harry and thanks to him you don't know why he has to be away. You don't know why Herm-"

The Milk man's hands clamped to either side of Ron's face and he lunged forwards to crush his lips over Ron's open mouth. He thrust his tongue inside and kissed him thoroughly. Ron was holding himself up on his crutches and tried to hop backwards out of reach on his good leg but the Milk man's hands were sliding down now and pressing into the small of his back to hold him against him.

Ron jerked his head and turned his face away, gasping in shock, and the Milk man stepped back and looked at Ron with hunger in his eyes.

"Come inside with me." The Milk man panted.

"No," Ron said as he tried to move backwards on his crutches, doing so very awkwardly, "can't you just be a friend?"

"I don't think I can," Milk man said, voice scratchy.

Ron got a better footing on the pavement and looked at his companion through the loneliest time of his life.

"I'm really sorry," he whispered before turning to head back the way he'd come.

"Wait!" Milk man called out as he ran after him, "Just come to the room and take a rest, like it used to be in the beginning, I'll lie on the floor and I won't touch you."

"You said I wasn't leading you on," Ron said, voice raised and crutches digging into his armpits, "and you said you could deal with it, that I wasn't going to screw around, and you just...you just..."

"I'm sorry, don't stomp off like this, let me get you that phone."

"To phone who?" Ron said as the Milk man jumped ahead of him, forcing him to stop, "If I ring you you'll think it's a come on."

"I won't," Milk man gripped Ron by the arms and looked him in the eyes with apparent sincerity, "you need a friend and you haven't got anyone and I'll be a friend to you, just a friend, I swear."

"Let go," Ron said, darkly.

Milk man released him immediately and took two steps backwards to give him space.

"Let's go somewhere public and sit down, we'll eat and talk like mates and..."

"And I'll say or do something else that makes you think you can...I want..." Ron hung his head and sighed, "I'm going back to the station. Bye and...thanks."

Ron pushed off on his crutches and steadily made his way along the road and tried to ignore the fact that the Milk man was silently following along behind him.

When he got to the steps up to the station and began lifting his crutches onto the first step Milk man took one of the crutches and pulled Ron's arm around his shoulders.

"Here, lean on me."

"Thanks."

Uncomfortable silence was punctuated by small grunts and huffs until they reached the top and Milk man placed the crutch back under Ron's arm.

"You have my number. Don't think you can't phone Ron. I'm really sorry." Milk man mumbled.

"I can't string you along and I won't have an affair, I just won't," Ron said, expression pained.

"I know you won't."

Ron swallowed and met Milk man's eyes. He leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. A passer by wolf whistled and Ron instantly blushed.

"I've gotta go," Ron whispered before lolloping away on his crutches.

"I mean it Ron," the Milk man called after him, "no matter what, you can always call me...for _anything_."

"Yeah, ok," Ron nodded, only half looking back over his shoulder as he continued on through the crowds.

"Don't be lonely rather than ringing!"

Ron didn't respond to the shout. He ploughed onward and back to Muriel.


	10. Part 10

**Leaving (part 10)**

"Did you hear Ronald," Muriel said, tone slightly vague, "Jonah Archer passed."

"Passed what?" Ron asked as he lifted a spoonful of porridge from the bowl and blew on it before holding it before her mouth.

"_Passed_ Ronald, he passed on. Passed away. Passed beyond the veil."

Muriel muttered something about Ron being dense before closing her mouth over the spoon and eating the dollop of porridge.

"Sorry, I don't know who Jonas Archer is," Ron said, distractedly, as he stirred the bowl of porridge and scooped up another spoonful for his Aunt.

"Jonah Archer, not Jonas!" Muriel huffed.

"Well whoever he is he could have been a schoolboy passing his exams as far as I knew," Ron sighed before blowing on the steaming spoonful of porridge.

"He's older than me, the husband of my dead friend Elsie, and he just died."

"Open," Ron said as he offered the spoonful and popped it into her mouth, "sorry about that Muriel, were you close?"

Muriel sucked on the porridge and shook her head before swallowing and smacking her lips.

"I didn't care for the man, very cheap with Elsie despite being well off, but he stayed in touch...well his family did," Muriel watched as Ron scooped up another spoonful of porridge for her, "they have a lot of time for me do Elsie's family."

"That's nice of them," Ron said through a deep yawn, holding the spoon before Muriel for her to take.

"Blow on it Ronald, you've more puff than me," Muriel said, an annoyed furrow on her brow as she watched Ron shake his head to clear it and then blow on the spoonful of porridge for her.

"Sorry Muriel, there ya go."

She gulped down the mouthful and licked her lips hastily so she could carry on with her story.

"Well he died, and after he died...well if he didn't find himself being cremated!"

"He _found himself_ cremated?" Ron paused, mid-scoop, "Was he not really dead then?"

"Of course he was dead," Muriel huffed, "if he was alive when they did it I'd have said he was burned alive wouldn't I?"

Ron just agreed with her and scooped the porridge up and began to blow on it to cool it down.

"So he died and then _found himself_ cremated," Ron said wearily.

"Yes," she nodded, "and the family split his ashes."

"Open," Ron said, moving the spoonful towards her moving lips.

Muriel took the porridge and swallowed.

"So one half stayed in Dorset, where he'd lived all his life," she went on, "and the other half went all the way across the world to San Francisco."

"Yeah?" Ron feigned interest as he stirred the porridge again.

"He'd never been abroad in his life and now, there he is in his death, in San Francisco. That's nice for him isn't it Ronald?"

"Lovely," Ron said, a bemused smile pulling at the corners of his mouth, "maybe he'll send you a postcard, Muriel."

"No Ronald, you misunderstand, he is actually dead," Muriel grabbed at his arm and looked him in the eye to make sure he comprehended her, "they burnt his body into ashes and split them in half. He was dead before they did that."

Ron's mouth twisted up into a lop-sided smile and he nodded.

"Oh _now_ I see, sorry Muriel, go on."

He blew on the spoonful of porridge he'd scooped out of the bowl and lifted it before her.

"So anyway, he has half of himself in San Francisco, I do hope it's the top half," Muriel said with a frown of distaste before wolfing down the spoonful of porridge.

Ron chuckled just a little before beginning to sing to himself as he plunged the spoon back into the bowl and stirring the thick gooey oats once again.

"I left my half - in San Francisco..."

Muriel slapped at his hand while cackling manically. Ron grinned and then laughed along with her.

"Well with your luck Apparating, anything's possible Ronald!" Muriel howled and Ron feigned offence.

"The respect you have for me is awesome," he sighed, "get your chops 'round this."

* * *

The Healer has come from St Mungo's for a home visit, not for Muriel this time, but for Ron.

He was asked to lie down with his leg flat and bare so his knee could be strapped up to give him some more support. Muriel had insisted he lie on the bed beside her and Ron had flushed a little as he stripped down to his boxers and lay beside her.

The Healer examined his knee and frowned, hummed and nodded to himself several times before holding Ron's kneecap between his thumb and forefinger and moving it from side to side very slowly.

Ron's whole body tensed and his hands balled into fists around the bedding beneath him. He hadn't realised he was holding his breath until Muriel held his hand and squeezed it tightly. He let his shaky breath out and gripped her wrinkled hand tightly.

"Does it hurt Mr Weasley?" the Healer asked him as he moved the kneecap to the right, the direction it had slipped and twisted away last time, and looked up into Ron's anxious face.

"No," he shook his head vigorously, "doesn't hurt it's just not nice. I don't like it. I don't want it to do it again, that's all."

Muriel rubbed her other hand up and down his arm, softly, while glaring at the Healer with mistrust.

"Don't you hurt him. I'm watching you!"

The Healer tried to charm Muriel with a smile but gave up soon enough and turned his focus back to Ron.

"I'm going to press my thumb into this hollow beside your kneecap here, do you see that?"

Ron saw what he was planning to do and nodded, licking his lips and bracing himself.

"This is the place your patella wrenched itself into last time isn't it?"

"Yeah," Ron said, voice hoarse.

"But if I've got my thumb in here it can't do that can it? It has nowhere to go and no option but to stay where it's supposed to, you see?"

The Healer pressed his thumb firmly into the hollow at the side of Ron's knee and then tried to slide his kneecap over to the right as he had done before. The kneecap didn't move sideways as much as it had before. Ron relaxed a little.

"Yeah, it's steady...steadier now," he nodded.

The Healer grinned and kept his thumb in place.

"Now bend your knee slowly for me."

Ron did as he was asked and the Healer held his leg as it moved, thumb still pressing into the side of his knee, and Ron didn't feel paranoid about the joint slipping.

"And flat again, slow as you can so I can see the kneecap moving up and down."

Ron straightened his leg once again and laid it flat upon the bed again. The Healer let go of Ron's leg and swivelled to reach for his bag.

"That's all well and good but you can't hold onto his leg for the rest of his life can you?" Muriel said with a tut.

The Healer turned back towards them with a floppy looking black rubber strap. It had a slight bulge at one end and reminded Ron of one of Fred and George's rubber snakes from when they were children. The bulge was just a little bigger than the Healer's thumb. He pressed it into the hollow, in the same way he'd held his thumb there before, and then curled the fingers of the other hand around the 'neck' of the black rubber snake and pulled it all the way down to the tail until it was free again.

The black rubber thing began to move. Ron gaped at it and realised that its body was fairly flat and more like an eel than a snake. The Healer caught his eyes and smiled before looking down at the writhing rubber thing and speaking to it.

"Coil!"

The black, eel-like length of rubber began to wrap itself around Ron's knee, cross-crossing from the top of his calf to the base of his thigh and pressing the bulge at the head firmly into the hollow beside his knee. When the movement was over Ron looked down to the smooth black lattice-work around his knee and could feel the security of the pressure against the side of his knee.

It felt good.

"Bend it," the Healer said with a nod of encouragement.

Ron did so, this time the Healer didn't hold onto his leg, and he felt confident in the joint. It was held together securely and he flexed and bent it a few more times before the Healer looked satisfied and got up from the bed.

"You have to take it off to bathe and at night when you go to sleep and when it is off you _have_ to use the crutches if you want to move around on it," he began packing up his bag as he spoke, "to remove it you press your fingers into the spot where the protuberance is applying pressure and say 'Uncoil'. Simple as anything."

"Yeah, thanks," Ron said as he ran his hand up and down his bound knee, "thank you for this."

The Healer winked at him before pulling his cloak around his shoulders.

"We couldn't have done it without the huge research grant awarded to our neglected department...somebody very rich and very anonymous sent a lot of money our way."

Ron's chest tightened and he stared at the man's knowing smile.

"Not everybody has such a well off guardian angel Mr Weasley, you're a lucky man."

Ron was speechless and could only nod.

"The permanent spell damage ward got a big boost too, I never did like how those poor souls were locked away as if they were an embarrassment," the Healer said as he stepped towards the fireplace, "if you have any questions about the strapping just send me an owl. Glad to be of help. Cheery-o!"

The Healer vanished in the blaze of emerald green flames and Ron found himself closing his eyes and trying to keep that bright green fixed upon his retinas.

He felt Muriel pulling at him and let himself be tugged into her side. He curled up into her side and hid his face in the crook of her arm.

"Maybe we were both wrong Ronald," Muriel said as she rubbed circles onto his back, "Maybe you were wrong about your life being over and I was wrong about celebrities who don't have time for their loved ones when they need them eh?"

Ron wrapped his arms around Muriel and they held each other in silence until the sun went down and the lamps needed to be lit.

* * *

Pig screeched and flew into the kitchen and then the side of Ron's head, looking a dreadful state, and Ron caught him as he fell.

"What the bloody hell is the matter wi-" Ron's eyes widened and he ran for the living room.

Muriel had severed all the special magical aides that kept her restricted to the bed and was pushing her slippers onto the wrong feet.

"Muriel, what are you doing?" Ron dashed to her side and grabbed her so she didn't fall.

"Get off me!" Muriel snapped, battering Ron about the head with her hands, "I want to go outside."

"Muriel, you shouldn't even be out of bed," Ron said as he tried to sit her back down.

"I am the head of this house and I let you stay here with me so you should do what I say!" Muriel declared in her most high and mighty tone of voice.

"You'll hurt yourself, ya silly cow!" Ron growled, "How the hell am I supposed to plum all this stuff back in to you? I'm gonna have to call a Healer to fix this and they might say you have to go to the hospital and I won't be able to declare I've been taking good care of you because..._look at this mess!_"

"They can't take me anywhere, I'm leaving, they won't know where to find me," Muriel said as she tried to reach around Ron for the door.

Ron staggered backwards as she leaned against him and then pushed her back towards the bed, lowering her down as gently as he could manage, before huffing in annoyance.

"They will find you because you won't even make it to the front gate, you silly old bat!"

"How dare you speak to me like that?" Muriel gasped.

"How dare you disobey Healer's orders, and my orders too? You know what Muriel? You're not head of this house, I am, and you will get back into that bloody bed and do as you're bloody well told!" Ron bellowed.

"Don't speak to me like that," Muriel screeched.

"I'll speak to you whichever bloody way I want to because you have taken over my life and I'm taking it back...and I'm taking yours too. I own you now."

"Well, really!" Muriel said with indignance.

"Yes, really." Ron nodded before dropping down onto the bed with a huff and picking up the severed colostomy charm and wincing, "Oh Muriel, you got piss all over the carpet."

"I want to go outside Ronald," Muriel said as she pouted, "It's a sunny day and I don't want to be in bed for another day. I hate this bed, I hate this room and I hate-"

"Me?" Ron offered.

Muriel bowed her head.

"I wasn't going to say that," she mumbled into her chest.

"Well give me a bloody break then." Ron said as he threw the severed healing aides down to the floor and hunched over, elbows on his knees.

"That's what I want Ronald," Muriel said as she tugged at the back of his t shirt, "I want us to go out from this place and have a break. You come with me. Let's go away boy...Let's go outside!"

* * *

Muriel was grinning and her eyes were half closed as the breeze wafted through her frizzy white hair.

"Oh Ronald, I do like it outside in the fresh air, this is such a nice change, thank you dear!"

Ron sent pig on another circuit of the living room, the little bird squawking like a seagull all the way, and felt quietly proud of his charm to change the owls hoot into a seaside gull. He'd transfigured the foot of Muriel's bed into soft warm sand and she wriggled her toes in it before the fresh, salty water lapped at them and washed it off.

Ron had taken an hour getting his six inch fake tide to move slowly backwards and forwards rather than just douse Muriel's legs as if they were on fire. The sea breeze, briny and gentle, had come surprisingly easily and combined with the illusion of the heart from the fireplace being altered to appear to be the heat from the sun it was a convincing day out at the beach for the bedridden old woman.

As long as she kept her eyes closed.

Ron clambered over all the clutter he'd made on the floor during the set up and headed for the kitchen to open the cupboard with the freezing charm on it. He pulled out a bowl of home made ice cream and heated up a metal spoon to scoop it out and press it into a wafer cone.

"Ronald?" Muriel called out to him, distractedly, "Ronald, where did you go?"

"Just on my way back," Ron said as he scooped more ice cream into a second cone for himself and carried them back to the bed, "I got us ice cream."

"Oooh!" Muriel said, eyes twinkling as she opened them to take the cone from him, "Are there Hundreds and Thousands on there Ronald, I can't see."

She squinted at the mound of ice cream and Ron flicked his wand at the top of her cone and soon the dome of frozen sweetness was covered in little multicoloured strands of sugar. Muriel squealed like a little girl and Ron shuffled up the bed to sit beside her and waggle his toes in the lapping waves at the foot of the bed.

"Deckchair comfortable?" he asked before licking his ice cream.

"Perfect, Ronald." Muriel said as she flicked her foot to splash water over his feet.

Ron laughed and splashed her back. Muriel got ice cream and Hundreds and Thousands all over her nose and chin. Ron huffed and muttered something about not being able to take her anywhere before pulling out a tissue and wiping her face clean with it.

"So, Ronald, where are you taking me tomorrow?" Muriel said as he sat back and swiped his tongue across his ice cream once again.

"Planning for tomorrow already?" he said, thickly, eyebrows raised.

"Yes," Muriel nodded against her ice cream and got blobs of melted sweet cream on the same spots on her face again, "I think we should have another adventure tomorrow. What do you think?"

Ron chuckled at Muriel's messy eating habits before looking up at the ceiling, thoughtfully.

"I dunno, two big days one after the other, I'm not as young as I used to be y'know?"

"Oh tshhh," Muriel said as she nudged him in the ribs with her elbow, "come on boy, I want to have a plan for tomorrow. I want tomorrow to be a big grand day."

"Right, grand, ok then." Ron nodded before coming up with an idea, "Well how about we host a big function at your château?"

"But I don't have a château," Muriel said as she looked at Ron with concern for his sanity.

"You'll be telling me this isn't a real beach next!" Ron snorted, making Muriel grin as she understood, "Right, so we'll get you all dolled up in your finery, ready to receive guests from all over, strapping men in dashing robes. Guests will bow to you as you pass them by."

"Oooh yes!" Muriel said with excitement.

"You'll be greeted with a hushed, awed silence wherever you go," Ron said as he wiped the ice cream from her face again, "and the château will be filled with flowers, huge great bouquets from all your friends you haven't seen in ages...The whole Archer family will be there and they'll bring their half of what'is'name..."

Muriel cackled and clapped her hands. Ron beamed, he was enjoying this.

"And we'll have soup of the day for every day of the week, and potatoes of the night!"

"What are potatoes of the night?"

"They're the same as the daytime ones only they wear more formal jackets," Ron smirked.

"Oh, oh Ronald, could we have a-la-carte? That fish like the Archers had?"

"We'll have a whole tank of 'em along the north wall," Ron said with a nod.

Muriel looked delighted.

"Maybe Ginervra can even dress up like a proper young lady and not some loose, unmarried mother."

Ron narrowed his eyes at his Aunt.

"Oi! That's still not acceptable, never gonna be acceptable, pack it in or no big gala celebration of you tomorrow!"

"Oh...I'll behave myself, I promise," Muriel said with a huff and a tut before linking her arm with Ron's, "will you be my escort and keep me in line Ronald?"

"Y'know what? If you're good I'll even wear a tie!"

* * *

_A/N The 'I left my half in San Fransisco' joke was shamelessly stolen from The Royale Family as was much of Muriel's personality. She owes a lot to the actress Liz Smith._


	11. Part 11

**Leaving (part 11)**

Ron threw back the covers and slid out of bed. He paused to yawn and stretch out his arms before the window, then grabbed his crutches and clomped across the bedroom floor and across the landing to the bathroom.

He tapped the shower with his wand and propped the crutches against the sink while he brushed his teeth. The sun was shining brilliantly through the window and, as he leaned over the sink to spit, the mirror spoke to him.

"_The water's hot enough now, I'm steaming up!"_

"Ta," Ron said before sliding his thumbs inside his loose boxers and letting them fall down his long, skinny legs to the floor.

Grabbing the handrail his father had fitted for him ever since his accident, he stepped beneath the running water and planted his feet as comfortably as he could with the limited space. Favouring his good leg he reached for the shampoo and poured a generous amount into his hand before slathering and lathering it onto his hair.

"_If I listened long enough to you,"_ Ron began to sing, he hadn't sung in the shower since he'd moved in with Muriel, "_I'd find a way to believe that its all true. Knowing that you lied straight-faced while I cried_."

Soap suds flowed over his face and he closed his mouth and faced the falling water to wash them away before rinsing the remainder of the lather away.

"_Still I look to find a reason to believe_," he continued as he reached for the bar of carbolic soap, the only soap Muriel would use for some reason, and began to rub it against his wet body.

He thought about having a rummage in the attic to search for Muriel's old record player and let her have some of her old fashioned party music for her day of fancy clothes and posh nosh.

"_Someone like you makes it hard to live without somebody else. Someone like you makes it easy to give, never think about myself..."_

He tapped the side of the shower head and the water stopped flowing. He reached for a towel and scrabbled at his wet hair with it before gripping the handrail tightly and stepping out of the shower. He reached for his crutches and hobbled on them, naked, back to his room.

Dropping himself down onto the bed he reached over for the black rubber strap and laid his leg flat before dragging his hand along the length of it and activating it. The thin rubber strap moved in readiness to support his leg. Ron held it firmly and pressed the bulge into the side of his knee.

"Coil," he ordered and the stretchy, eel-like thing wound around his leg until his knee was firmly strapped up and stable.

He ran his hand over it and it was smooth and comfortable. He smiled and then lowered his leg to begin dressing. He pulled on a green t-shirt with the faded words 'Ireland – World Champions!' emblazoned across his chest in a darker, bottle green, before remembering that it was Muriel's dressed up day. He wandered over to the wardrobe and pulled out a navy shirt and threw it on the bed before wondering what trousers to wear.

He wandered over to the top of the stairs in his briefs and t-shirt to call down to the living room.

"Muriel," he paused and heard nothing, "Muriel, you awake?"

He huffed and padded back to his room and resolved to just pull on a pair of basic black and be prepared to have to change when she told him he looked like an idiot. He pulled on a pair of dark socks with no holes in them and then the shirt.

"Right," he said to himself, "what do fancy people have for breakfast?"

He wandered down the stairs, straightening his collar and pondering his choice of flowers from the garden to put in a little vase on a tray with her tea and jammy crumpets. He reached the bottom of the stairs and opened the curtains.

"Do you like cornflowers Muriel? They've come up early this year?"

There was no response.

"So you think they look too common eh?" Ron rolled his eyes, "Well the daffodils and the tulips are all gone. I can hardly pick a crocus for you can I? It'd be like putting a house elf on a very tall plinth."

Ron turned and looked down at Muriel and frowned.

"Are you pretending to be asleep?"

She didn't move.

"I got dressed up, look," he said as he spread his arms and did a twirl, "we're gonna have your big fancy day today, remember?"

Muriel remained still.

"Muriel?" Ron said before swallowing against his suddenly dry throat, "We're gonna put you in all your finery and have vol-au-vents and horse-derves...remember?"

He leaned over his great Aunt and gently shook her shoulder. She didn't stir and her face was strangely pallid.

"Muriel?" Ron shook her a little harder, "D'you need a Pepper-up potion or something?"

Ron could feel her cold skin with his thumb and grabbed her other shoulder with his free hand and shook her into the mattress.

"Muriel, stop it! You need to get dressed-up. You don't make plans and then... _GET UP!_"

Muriel's eyes were closed, her lips were dry and slightly parted and she was cold and still. Ron's eyes stung and he felt as if he had a fist stuck deep in his throat. He tried to swallow but instead he choked and ran for the kitchen to pull every potion bottle he had from the cupboard and read the label. He needed to find something, anything, that he could give her.

Pig flew down the stairs and twittered happily around his head. Ron's clumsy, shaking fingers fumbled from one potion bottle to another and then another while he swore under his breath and his eyes welled up so much that he couldn't read anymore.

The little owl seemed to pick up on his master's distress and perched on the kitchen counter. His large eyes looked up into Ron's face and he lifted his leg, ready to take a message to somebody for him. Ron opened his mouth but nothing came out. He closed it again and shook his head. Pig gave a meek hoot and hopped closer to Ron but he had already flung himself away from the counter and back through to the living room and Muriel's bedside.

He grabbed the woman and pulled her up into a sitting position.

"Get up! Get up you silly old bat! Get up and give me shit for not wearing a tie!" He yelled at her as her head lolled.

Ron's shoulders fell and he let out a shuddering breath before holding her to him and whimpering.

"Oh shit," he said in a high pitch, voice cracking.

He began to rock her from side to side with him and cry.

"What did I do? What did I do wrong? You don't just die! You don't just not wake up you silly cow!" he sobbed and sniffed and gulped against his tight throat, "Did I mess up the potions? Did I fuck it up? Oh Merlin, I'm sorry. I'm sorry..."

Pig made a fretful sound as he perched on the bedstead and Ron tried to calm himself down. He took several deep, shaky breaths and then managed to think clearly enough to call for assistance.

"Kreacher," he said, croakily.

The House Elf appeared immediately and scurried to his side, fretting that Ron was hurt again.

"Master Weasley?" The elf bowed before looking at Ron's face and clutching at his elbow, "You are upset. What can Kreacher do to make it better sir?"

Ron sniffed and wiped his eyes with his sleeve before looking down at the elf.

"Can you go and get my Mum for me?" he said with a faltering voice, "Tell her that Muriel...Muriel's...she's..."

Kreacher bowed and walked backwards as he understood what had happened.

"I will fetch your mother immediately sir, Kreacher will be quick."

Before Ron could nod the elf was gone and Ron closed his eyes and laid Muriel back down onto the pillow. He wiped his puffy face and ran his hands over his hair before looking at her in her nightie, sallow-faced, and hair all frizzy and wild.

"I'll," he said, startled that he was even speaking aloud for a moment, "I'll get you dressed properly. Wouldn't want strangers to see you in your nightgown eh?" He nodded to himself, "They'll send undertakers to pick you up and they'll be official people in the house. You don't want...you wouldn't want them to see you like..."

Ron pulled his wand out from his pocket and pointed it up the stairs.

"_Accio Muriel's posh frock!_"

Just as Kreacher returned the velvet dress robes flew down the stairs and draped across the bed.

"Sir, your mother is on her wa-" the Floo in the kitchen activated, heralding his mother's arrival.

"Ronnie?" She called out.

The fireplace blazed again and then he heard his father's voice.

"I just sent word to the Westies to come and take her to the bier to prepare for the burial. Where's Ron?"

His mother hurried through the door and clasped her hand to her mouth as she saw the two of them.

"Oh Ronnie," she said with a quiver in her tone, "it's all right, Mummy will take care of it. You go to the Burrow and Ginny'll get you something to eat."

"Molly, wait," Arthur said as she gripped her shoulder, "Ron might be the...he might _want_ to be t-"

"I'm her Anam Chara," Ron nodded before reaching for the dress robes, "and the undertakers can't come in until she's dressed. She wouldn't like it."

"Of course Ron." Arthur nodded, smiling at his son with pride and kindness.

"I'll put a dress on her and tidy up Ronnie, don't worry about that," his mother said as she perched with him on the side of the bed and stilled his hand by clutching at his wrist, "You have been so good to her, I know she thought the world of you sweetheart but you don't have to do this."

"Yes I do!" Ron snapped as he pulled his arm free, "She told me what she wanted. She wants to have her fine robes on and her hair and make up done. She wants her jewellery, Kreacher, fetch Muriel's best jewellery for me will you?"

The elf nodded and dashed away to do as he was asked.

"Ron," his Dad said as he stood at his son's side and stooped over to whisper into his ear, "do you know the death rites?"

Ron shook his head. He ignored the pained look on his mother's face and focused upon his father's eyes.

"Place three drops of water between her lips and say, 'Go easy to the land of the ancestors. Let the waters carry you across to the Blessed Isles where your family and loved ones await', and that's you sending her on her way as her Anam Chara."

"Arthur don't, he's not u-" Ron's mother implored her husband.

"Molly my love, he needs to send her on her way," his father said kindly to his flustered wife, "just like we did with Fred...just like George had to. You can't expect him to just hand her over to strangers and have tea and toast with Ginny."

Ron was relieved to see that she understood and accepted this and began to drop the water into Muriel's mouth while speaking the words his father had recited to him.

Kreacher came down the stairs with a jewellery box and a pair of shoes.

"Kreacher picked out shoes for the Mistress too, was Kreacher right to choose? Is the shoes right for the Mistress?" He grovelled to Ron's parents.

"They're perfect Kreacher, thank you." Ron heard his mother say, kindly.

Ron completed the death rites and looked down at all the magical aides connected to her body.

"These have to come off and be put away. Strip the bedding too and bring down the expensive stuff for me Kreacher," Ron mumbled before getting up from the bed and rubbing the back of his head as he tried to remember everything, "I'll go up to the attic and find the record player, I said she could have her favourite music playing."

"I can do all of it for sir," Kreacher bowed.

"No, just the bedding, then help Mum, Muriel wanted her hair and her make up done and you can pick out what rings and necklaces and stuff to put on her. I don't know about that sorta stuff."

"Will you be all right getting into the attic son?" his father asked.

"Yeah, my knee's strapped up, I'll be fine." Ron nodded, numbly, "Oh crap, flowers! She wants flowers as well, can somebod-"

"I'll call on Fleur to come and make the room look...like a Veela's beautified it," his Dad said with a smile.

"Good idea, yeah," Ron nodded as he began talking to himself, "and I'll get her music for her and tell the Archer family what's happened and that she wanted them to come to the burial. We have to outdo them for her, she'd like that."

"Just get the record player first, eh son?"

"Right, yeah," Ron nodded, "and somebody needs to find out what a-la-carte is so we can serve it for the guests."

The fireplace blazed again and Ginny stepped into the living room wearing jeans and a baggy sleeveless top.

"Where's the baby?" her mother demanded as she struggled to put Muriel's dress robes on her.

"With his Uncle George," Ginny said before approaching Muriel's bed with uneasiness.

"Gin?" Ron called down the stairs.

"Yeah, Ron, what do you need?" she called up to him, glad for the distraction.

"Go home and put on a dress."

Ginny blinked.

"Excuse me?"

"I'm serious, if you're going to be here when they take her away you have to be wearing a dress. Muriel wants us all done up posh today." Ron glanced off to one side and narrowed his eyes, "I need to find a tie."

"Ron, are you all right?" Ginny called up to him with concern.

"Ginny," her father spoke softly into her ear as he pulled her away from the foot of the stairs, "your brother is the Anam Chara and it looks like Muriel gave him final wishes to carry out so indulge him won't you?"

Ginny nodded and turned to look at Muriel just as Kreacher floated her up off the mattress to change the bedding.

"Can I do an-" she began to ask her mother.

"Would you be able to calm her hair down so she doesn't look so...shocked?"

Ginny smiled.

"I'll see if I can style it like that photo of her on the mantelpiece over there," Ginny said before picking up a comb and pulling it through her aunt's frizzy white hair.

* * *

Neither Harry nor Hermione had made it back for the burial but the entire Archer family had arrived at the house in pristine robes, heads bowed and tributes solemnly paid to Muriel before everybody ate and drank a toast to the departed hostess. 

The coffin bearers were regal, strapping men, who carried Muriel to her final resting place and there was a respectful silence before the mourners bowed and departed, leaving only the family to hold vigil until dawn.

As the sun broke over the horizon Ron pulled a scrap of parchment from inside his cloak and cleared his throat.

"Come spirits across the ocean; join with your sister who waits here. Take her across to the bright land. Take her across moor and meadow. Take her across a calm sea. Take her across a blissful ocean. Peace and joy on the day of her death as she finds her way to the white sun."

Ron stooped and picked up a handful of soil and dropped it down upon Muriel's coffin. Each member of the family followed suit, baby Bobby having a handful from his mother held to his forehead before being thrown in for him.

The grave was filled with soil and after this a cairn of stones was built, one stone selected and added by each member of the family as they muttered a farewell to Muriel and then left the grave to return to the house for the feast in celebration of Muriel's life, which Kreacher was proudly preparing.

Fleur had explained a-la-carte to the elf and he had taken it to mean that he was to prepare every French dish known to the civilised world and by the time a member of the Magical Law department arrived late in the afternoon most of the Weasley family were sitting around, formal attire in disarray, stuffed to the gills and merrily intoxicated on fine wine from the Delacour's cellar.

The wizard cleared his throat and one or two of the family looked at him incomprehensively before Charlie waved his arm towards the heavily laden table of food.

"Help yourself to food; you'll be doing us a favour mate!"

"Um...well thank you, but I'm looking for Mr Weasley."

There was a rowdy cheer as half a dozen Mr Weasleys all piped-up at once.

"Narrow it down maybe?" Ginny asked as she patted little Bobby on the back to get him to burp, "Unless you're looking for _this_ Mr Weasley."

The wizard looked flummoxed and pulled out a thin, leather-bound deed. He ran his finger down the first page and then looked up, hopefully.

"Ronald Bilius Weasley, do we have one of those?"

Ron looked apprehensive and raised his hand.

"Ah!" the wizard said before pulling a quill from his robe and making his way across the room towards Ron.

"Um," Ron's Dad said as he stood at Ron's side, a hand on his shoulder, "I'm Ron's father and I work at the Ministry. Do you think you could tell me what you're doing here? We've just had a family funeral you know?"

"Of course, it's stipulated that the handover be dealt with immediately," the wizard said as he pointed at the official document, lying open in the crook of his arm.

He set it down on the table before Ron and offered him the quill.

"You just need to sign at the bottom there and it's all yours." The wizard grinned.

"Sign what? What's all mine?" Ron frowned.

"Well this is your great Aunt Muriel's wake is it not?" the man frowned.

"Yeah." Ron nodded slowly.

"Well she was very explicit that her estate be dealt with immediately," the wizard explained, "the full list of her bequest is in here but you only have to sign the first page. The main thing obviously is the house."

Ron gaped at the man.

"Huh?"

"The house, this house, it's yours Mr Weasley."

Ron shook his head.

"Na-ah," he said, leaning away from the man and the official looking document.

"Yes," the man nodded, encouragingly, "she was very specific, it was me she dictated it to so I know, she made it quite clear that 'the boy Ronald' was to keep his home. According to her it was already yours, your shared it and now she has passed it's yours and yours alone."

"No!" Ron squeaked, "I was just looking after her. This isn't...we didn't...she never said..."

"She said it to me Mr Weasley," the wizard smiled, kindly, "and I am an official so that makes this official. This house and everything in it is yours."

Ron shook his head again, dumbly.

"There are things mentioned like a tiara and jewellery, heirlooms and such, that she says you can distribute to the family on her behalf but the house is yours."

George started smiling and Ginny bit her lip and clung to a now burped Bobby.

"Oh Ronnie dear, isn't that lovely?" His mother said with her hand over her heart.

"Sign it," Bill said, his arm around Fleur and his scarred face crumpled into a grin.

"But..."

"You bloody earned this and she knew that," George said before grabbing the quill and pushing it into Ron's hand, "sign it."

The wizard leaned over and looked Ron in the eye with a glint in his own.

"She didn't leave you any money; nobody will think you only took care of her for your own gain."

Ron's shoulders relaxed and he found himself gripping the quill properly.

"Really?"

"Really," the wizard said before giving a half shrug, "she didn't have much in her old age but what she did have she left to St Mungo's with the proviso that anybody with the last name Weasley be treated to the highest standard of care until the money runs out."

Ron swallowed and looked down at the space he was supposed to sign. He felt his father's hand rubbing at his back.

"She's given you your freedom son, a house, independence, and you don't have to worry about treatment for your leg. You'll get the best."

"_Any_ Weasley," Ron said as he looked up, "so when _any_ of us are too ill to look after ourselves it's not...gonna be as hard."

Arthur winked and ruffled his son's hair.

"Ron," Charlie said, folding his arms across his chest, "sign the bloody thing so we can all get bladdered."

Ron laughed and their mother huffed at her unruly son. He looked up at the wizard from the magical law department.

"You'll stay for a drink? Have something to eat and drink to Muriel with us?"

"It would be a pleasure," the wizard said with a curt bow of the head, "thank you for welcoming me into your home so graciously sir."

Ron flushed in the face and quickly scribbled his signature.

There was a loud cheer and a smattering of applause before several slaps fell upon his back and the wizard was poured a generous drink and guided towards the table straining under the weight of Kreacher's culinary efforts.

Ron closed the leather bound document and silently thanked Muriel, the impossible old bird.


	12. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

The house was clean and organised.

The cupboards were stocked with food.

All the household jobs that needed to be done were done long ago.

Ron stood in the kitchen and tried to remember what he used to do with himself before he had to administer potions at set times during the day, arrange for cover if he wanted to pop out for an hour, or keep a demanding aunt company.

Just the idea that he could go out if he wanted to was foreign to him. He could leave. He could grab a jacket and walk out the door and not tell anybody where he was going or when he'd be back. He almost had an anxiety attack just thinking about it.

He told himself he was being ridiculous and headed into the living room to grab a pair of trainers and pull them onto his feet. As he laced them up he contemplated if it would be a good or a bad idea to see the Milk man again.

He bit his lip, still undecided, and straightened up. Pulling his jacket off the banister he headed for the kitchen fireplace and grabbed a handful of Floo powder.

"_The Leaky Cauldron!_"

* * *

He had spent an hour wandering aimlessly up and down Diagon Alley before giving up his pretence that he was actually out for any particular reason and stomping into Wheezes with a sigh of resignation. 

"Ronniekins!" George greeted him, happily.

"Hiya," Ron said with a nod before looking around the reasonably busy shop, "I was just passing and thought I'd pop in."

"A lot's changed since you were last here little bro," George slapped a hand on Ron's back and began to give him a guided tour of the shop floor, "we have an adult line, if you get my drift, and an expanded section at the back for Auror related business."

Ron angled his head to try and peer through the beaded partition at the shop's version of Hogwarts library's restricted section but couldn't see anything of interest before his brother dragged him away to one side.

"...because of you really and it's so popular I think I might need to expand another back room on the other side of the shop. Even St Mungo's have been interested."

"Who...what?" Ron shook his head and tried to pick up the loose thread of the conversation again, with no success.

George rolled his eyes and slapped Ron around the back of his head before shoving him towards a new section of the shop that was filled with products in green packaging.

"I said I came up with some ideas for pleasant treatments and stuff like that. You know how awful Lupin said the Wolfsbane potion was?"

Ron nodded.

"Well I had Lavender Brown in here complaining about the same thing and I thought about how it's only ever been stated that it's _sugar_ that makes it useless so I did some experiments and sent some samples to your canine ex and there's two potions that worked just as well as the crap tasting one while also managing to be palatable."

George picked up a bottle with _Spiced Wolfsbane_ written on the label and turned it in his hand to read off the added ingredients to Ron.

"Cardamom, cinnamon, coriander, ginger and nutmeg; they're a nice wintry combination and all do something to overpower the nasty taste from the potion. Then there's vanilla pod one which is really heady but adds sweetness without any sugar. Honestly, that's too sickly even for me but Lavender likes it, sweet tooth like you I reckon."

"She brushes her teeth with violet toothpaste," Ron said, recalling her distinctively flavoured kisses.

"She did ask me to try violet but it wasn't strong enough. Rhubarb overpowers everything but according to her it tastes even worse than the potion!"

"Well rhubarb with nothing to sweeten it George, that would be a bit harsh."

George conceded this with a nod before watching Ron scanning the shelves full of pleasant remedies. His eyes bulged at the sight of what looked like his eel-like knee support.

"What the...you invented this?"

George looked very pleased with himself.

"I did, though mine are only good for one day, if you needed a support for a whole month you'd need to buy thirty of them so I'm just selling them as a support for sports. Y'know, like something to wear to play Quidditch?"

"That's a great idea," Ron said as he examined the box, "but um...how come mine...?"

"Well St Mungo's have geniuses of their own don't they?" George smiled, "they had this incredible formula for living rubber that lasts for fifty odd years before it begins to perish. The material costs more than I could ever afford but they got a grant or something and spent it on gathering all the materials and tried out the formula on my invention. Works well enough doesn't it?"

"Yeah," Ron nodded before bending and flexing his leg in demonstration, "I never realised you designed it...or that it was _that_ expensive."

George grinned and Ron felt he knew that it must have been Harry who donated the money to the Healers for their development project.

"So where were you on your way to then?" George asked.

"Oh um...I was just gonna...heading to..." Ron was pointing vaguely to the far end of the street before swinging his arm around in the opposite direction to point back the way he'd come, "The Leaky Cauldron!"

George folded his arms across his chest and looked smug.

"So you didn't come via the Leaky?"

"Well yeah, I was...just heading back."

"So you came and walked in here and now you're going back home?"

"No!" Ron said as if George was a fool for missing the point, "I'm going through to the Muggle side to meet up with a friend."

"So you weren't passing here at all then?" George grinned.

"I...Oh shut up!" Ron growled before stomping towards the door with the sound of George's laughter ringing in his ears.

"Oh come on Ronniekins, there's nothing wrong with just coming to see your brother, you don't have to make an excuse!"

"I have somewhere to be," Ron said as he pulled open the door.

"Well if you ever had nowhere to be...you're welcome to be here. Just so ya know, y'know?" George shrugged and then turned to beam at a browsing customer and begin his sales pitch as he waved goodbye to Ron.

* * *

"I'm really glad you rang," Milk man said as he pushed the largest cup of hot chocolate Ron had ever seen across the table towards him, "I was afraid I'd never hear from you again." 

"Ta, yeah I'm sorry it was so..."

"Forget last time," Milk man said before picking up a small jug and holding it over Ron's drink, "milk?"

Ron's cheek twitched and then he let out a stifled laugh before the Milk man slumped into laughter in his chair and shook his head.

"You're never gonna be anything other than the Milk man to me, ever, you know that right?" Ron chuckled.

"It's all my own doing, I know. God I'm glad I didn't have peas written on my hand now!"

Ron snorted into his drink and got cream on his nose.

"The Pea man, oh that'd be brilliant!"

"No it wouldn't!"

"It'd suit you I think," Ron teased, looking at the Milk man's embarrassed face.

"Sod off you."

The laughter slowly died down and they both drank from their large cups before the silence became too much.

"So how are things with your Aunt, any better now your leg is stronger?" Milk man asked.

"Um," Ron looked down into his cup, chin on his chest, "Muriel died."

"Oh shit Ron, I'm sorry," Milk man's hand darted across the table and squeezed his, "was it...how was it?"

"It was ok, in her sleep," Ron looked up and tried to smile, "I came to wake her in the morning and she was gone."

"That's the best way to go I think, not for you, it must have been horrible to find her like that but...for her y'know?"

Ron nodded.

"So you've gone back to your Mum and Dad's place now?"

"No, I'm...Muriel left me the house."

"Wow, see she knew what your were doing for her and she appreciated it, that's really cool."

"Yeah," Ron looked into Milk man's eyes with sadness in his own, "thing is; now I'm even more alone."

"No you're not," milk man said firmly, "I'm here and I'm going to take you to...a very well lit and crowded, non-intimate place and we're going to have some fun."

"There's such a place as that?" Ron laughed, eyebrow cocked, quizzically.

"There are a few."

* * *

The cool air and morning sun finally broke through the wall of sleep around Ron and he cracked an eyelid open. The bed was warm and comfortable and he shifted his weight so he could roll over onto his side and see what time it was. 

That was when he realised that the hand on his chest wasn't his own.

He swallowed and looked at the large manly hand, dark hairs on the back of it and writing in blue ink across from wrist to knuckle, and his chest tightened as he read the three letters.

_RON_

Ron was frozen beneath the hand, not breathing and head screaming at him to remember how this could have happened, before he turned his head and followed the line from hand to wrist to elbow to shoulder and then looked at the face on the pillow beside him.

"Harry?"

Harry stirred and made a contented humming sound before wriggling into Ron's side and pulling him into his warm body by tightening the arm around his chest.

"Mornin'" Harry murmured.

Ron was about to yelp out an exclamation of shock and joy when her felt soft skin against his other side and jerked his head around to see Hermione nestling her head of bushy hair into the crook of his neck.

"Missed you, missed this, don't get up," she sighed before moving her arm across to lay over Harry's.

"You're back. You're both back!" Ron said, eyes bulging, "When did this happen?"

Harry chuckled into Ron's side and Hermione opened her big brown eyes and stroked his face with the back of her hand.

"It was late and you were so peaceful," she sighed, "we didn't want to wake you."

Ron was about to speak when he felt Hermione's leg dragging up his and her foot pushing between them before sliding it down again, parting his legs and leaving her own sandwiched between them. Harry's hot wet mouth was devouring Ron's skin around his shoulder and along to his collarbone.

As Hermione's hand moved away from his face again Ron saw that she too had his name written on the back of her hand. He caught her about the wrist and held her hand still to examine it before finding his voice again.

"Why do you both have my name on the back of your hands?"

"To remind us," Harry said between kisses into the side of Ron's neck.

"Re-Remind you?" Ron quivered as Harry's kisses became more ravenous and Hermione's hand slipped under the sheets and down his narrow chest and flat stomach.

"The whole time we were working overtime, such long hours and miserable nights," Hermione said as she nibbled his earlobe, "we needed to be reminded what we were doing it all for."

"_Who_ we were doing it for," Harry growled as he pulled himself up and kissed Ron on the lips.

"A constant reminder to keep going with double shifts and no sleep that all that mattered was that we got back to you as soon as possible," Hermione sighed as her fingers splayed and her hand slowly passed by his navel.

Ron closed his eyes and threw back his head with a moan of bliss. His body moved in reaction to every sensation and aching need for more.

"We heard you'd been hurt and gone to the hospital" Harry said as he ran his fingers through Ron's hair, "and we couldn't come back to be with you. Never...Never leave you alone again."

Harry moved to straddle Ron just as Hermione did the same behind him and smiled down at Ron over Harry's shoulder.

"Never."

"Godric I missed you!" Ron gasped before Harry stole his words and his breath away with a kiss.

"Oh and Ron?" Hermione said as she wrapped her legs around both Harry and Ron's bodies, "Who _is_ that man sleeping on your sofa downstairs?"

Harry broke the kiss and arched his eyebrows, expectantly.

"Ah," Ron said before grinning, "I think I might have broken that rule about letting Muggles know about our world."

"Oh ok!" Harry said, brightly before thrusting his tongue into Ron's mouth.

"I look forward to meeting him...afterwards," Hermione sighed before curling her arms around both her boys.

Ron grabbed hold of them and held on tight. He was full, he was complete, he was a whole again. And finally, he had arrived exactly where he always wanted to be, he was home.

**End**

_A/N So a couple of you saw that one comming but I reckon most of you are going to be pretty shocked. Hope you're shocked in a good way!_

_Lots of thanks to my friend and beta Leviathan0999 for all his help._


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